


THE LOST SOUL

by fhsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-15
Updated: 2009-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-05 17:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Skinner has a NDE and finds out he has one lesson to learn before he can get into Heaven.  He must learn to forgive -- Alex Krycek.





	THE LOST SOUL

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Title: THE LOST SOUL 

Author: Donna McIntosh

Email: dmcintoshtx@yahoo.com

Fandom: X-Files

Pairing: Skinner/Krycek

Rating: NC – 17 FRAO

Genre: Slash

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Files and I make no money off these stories.

Summary: Skinner has a Near Death Experience and finds out he has one lesson left to learn before he can pass on and that is the lesson of forgiveness. He must learn to forgive Alex Krycek.

Special thanks to Ursula for her great Beta job. 

 

 

THE LOST SOUL

 

Walter Skinner had just taken the Crystal City off ramp and was pleased to see the light green for a change. He'd be home in another ten minutes and he was thinking about re-heating some leftover Chinese take out for dinner. He debated whether or not to stop at the liquor store and decided not to. He'd have enough Scotch to last till the weekend if he limited himself to two drinks a night. He could do that. He never even saw the truck that hit him. He sailed through the green light and then there was an explosion and everything went black.

 

He was walking down a long path across a grassy green field. The sun was bright and diffused his surroundings into a fuzzy blur. Nothing was clear except the path in front of him. He had a moment's wonder at where he was but it passed in a flash. The afternoon was warm and the breeze was comfortably cool. He spotted someone sitting at a desk at the end of the path and thought he'd stop and ask where he was.

 

"Hello, you must be Walter. Please, have a seat." The man stood up and greeted him with an out-stretched hand across the desk.

 

Walter took the hand and returned the greeting. "Hi. Yes, I'm Walter Skinner. And you are?"

 

"Peter. We're strictly on a first name basis here. Sit, please, so we can talk."

 

"What are you doing out here? You say you were expecting me?" Walter asked as he sat.

 

"Yes. It's good to see you again."

 

"Again? I've been here before?"

 

"Yes, but that was a long time ago and you were in pretty bad shape. I doubt you remember. You were a very angry young man at the time."

 

"I'm sorry." Walter rubbed fingertips against his temple. "I don't remember."

 

"That's quite all right. What exactly is it that you do remember?" 

 

Walter leaned back in the chair and tried to put his thoughts in order. "I was driving home from work. I was thinking about whether or not to stop at the liquor store and then … I heard a loud noise, an explosion, I think."

 

"So your mind is pretty clear up to the moment of impact then?"

 

"Impact?"

 

"The truck that came around the corner; the driver lost control and he lost his life."

 

"He hit me? The light was green, I remember that."

 

"You are correct. You had the green light as you entered that intersection. He had the red. But he was speeding and when he hit his brakes at the last minute, they failed."

 

Walter was confused. "If I was broadsided, why wasn't I injured? Why aren't I in a hospital?"

 

"Oh, but you were and you are." Peter said and with a wave of his arm a small cloud appeared over the desk and opened up. Walter could see himself lying in a hospital bed – Mulder and Scully at his bedside.

 

"What the … What is this? Where am I?" Walter leaned closer to the scene and he could hear Scully praying and see Mulder pacing the floor behind her. "What's going on here?"

 

"You haven't figured that out yet?" Peter said with a gentle smile.

 

"Am I … dead?"

 

"No. But you're close. I thought it was time the two of us had another chat. You're not an angry young man any more. You've lived a fine life and you are at a crossroad now."

 

"Crossroad? What kind of crossroad?"

 

"You have a choice to make."

 

"What kind of choice?"

 

"You have learned many lessons during your different life times on earth. You have one left to learn before I can let you in."

 

"Let me in? Where?"

 

"Why, Heaven, of course." Another wave of his arm and Walter saw beautiful pearly white gates over to the side. He could see green grass and flowers and heard the most beautiful tinkling music he had ever heard coming from beyond the gate.

 

Walter sat with his mouth open in wonder. "It's beautiful!" he said with awe. "So what is this last lesson that I have to learn before I can enter?"

 

" Forgiveness – you must learn how to forgive."

 

"Forgiveness? Do you have any idea what I've been through?" Walter stood and began to pace.

 

"As a matter of fact, I do." Peter leaned back and addressed Walter with a grin. "I know your complete record from the day you were born. I know it all; the good and the bad."

 

"There wasn't all that much bad." Walter defended himself. "I suppose you're talking about my time in Nam?"

 

"I am; among other things."

 

"What other things? What?" Walter demanded.

 

"Everyone makes mistakes, Walter. We have all done things that we regret; that we wish we could change or make up for. This is your chance to wipe the slate clean."

 

"What do I have to do?" 

 

"We have another soul who is about to be lost for good. Without someone's immediate intervention his soul will be doomed forever." Another wave of his arm and another vision opened up. He could see another desk a long ways off, and sitting behind it was the grinning beast from hell himself, Satan. His gnarled face was as red as the scene from behind his black iron gate where Walter could see the bubbling cauldron of molten lava and the bodies shrieking in terror and pain as they eddied and swirled in the depths, clawing at the sides and trying to climb out. A glance back at Satan and Walter could see he was enjoying himself watching the scene before turning his eyes to Walter. He smiled his evil smile and crooked a finger at Walter, beckoning him closer.

 

Walter stood where he was and gasped as the foul stench of burning flesh reached his nostrils.

 

"How can I help?" Walter sat back down and leaned forward towards Peter.

 

"You have worked long and hard all your life to achieve your many accomplishments."

 

"Yes, I have. I've worked damn hard to get where I am. What has that got to do with anything?"

 

"Many opportunities came your way and you jumped on each one using them as stepping stones to get where you find yourself right now."

 

"I'm not following."

 

"You were offered opportunities, you took advantage of them and things worked out for you."

 

"That's right."

 

"Others were also offered opportunities which they took advantage of and sometimes they didn't work out."

 

"I see. What you're saying is that I was lucky."

 

"You were lucky as well as being a hard worker. You grew up in a family that loved you, you were popular in school and good grades came easy to you. You came back from a war that many didn't, and you came back intact both physically and mentally. You had the best medical help available at the time, you went to college on the G.I. bill, graduated near the top of your class, landed a good job and immediately started climbing the ladder of success."

 

"I'm aware of all that."

 

"There are others, many others who did not have the advantages you have had. Others did not make the right choices and have suffered mightily because of it. Some grew up on the streets, without parents or family support. Some, while not involved in a declared war, were doing battle just the same. Some came through it all and were redeemed to eventually find their way here." He gestured towards Heaven. "Others were not so lucky. They see themselves as doomed and they lash out at everyone and every thing in their path."

 

"And all this is leading to one particular person that you want me to help?"

 

"Yes it is. I was confused my self at first as to why you were brought here as your current injuries were not that serious. I see it clearly now. You were chosen for this assignment."

 

"And this assignment is supposed to teach me to forgive?"

 

"It is."

 

"Ok. So give me this guy's name and I'll see what I can do."

 

"His name is Alex Krycek."

 

"ALEX KRYCEK?!" Walter jumped up again. "You can't be serious. If ever anyone deserved to be over there," he gestured towards Hell, "it's Alex Krycek!"

 

"I see. And just when were you put in charge of deciding where your fellow man's soul should spend eternity?"

 

"You don't understand – you don't know this man. I do!"

 

"I know him, Walter, just as I know you." He un-rolled a long scroll that reached to the ground beside his desk. "I've known him from the time he was first born and his prostitute mother left him in a card board box in a dumpster. I've known him as a run-away child walking the streets fighting for a piece of bread. I've known him as he worked on his studies by a flickering neon light in the back room of a seedy bar and as he turned tricks to pay for food. He was fighting for survival from the time he took his first breath. He had a lot of opportunities offered to him too which he took advantage of. Most of them didn't work out. You worked as a teenager to buy that old pick up truck so you could drive your girl friends around. He worked as a teenager to put a roof over his head and food in his mouth. He has worked long and hard too, Walter. Yes, he has made mistakes; many, many mistakes and his life, the last ten years, has gone steadily down hill because of them."

 

"A lot of people make it through difficult childhoods and come through to be fine up-standing adults. Krycek did not."

 

"Exactly my point, Walter, Alex is still floundering in the darkness. He has no idea how close he is to losing his soul for all eternity. Once he goes through that gate over there, there is no coming back."

 

"Maybe some souls deserve to be there."

 

"I'm sure some do. Just as I am sure that Alex does not. His soul was a thing of pure beauty and innocence until it was all taken from him by someone who had promised to look out for him – his foster father, who, by the way, is a permanent resident across the way there."

 

Walter snuck a quick look over at Satan and had to look immediately away from the obscenely grinning face.

 

"He was abused?"

 

"In the worst way possible for a young boy but he persevered. He struggled to keep alive and clothed and in school. All he ever wanted to do was become a police man, to help people, to take care of them."

 

"He has a funny way of showing that."

 

"Maybe so. But here is a man that had no nurturing at all and he managed to keep himself alive, put himself through school and make it into the F.B.I."

 

"Yes he did and then first chance he got, he went over to the other side!" Walter was getting steamed again.

 

"As I said before, he has made many mistakes, he believed people he shouldn't have; put his faith in people who didn't deserve it. He knows he is on the wrong path but sees no way out."

 

"And I'm supposed to help him? How can I possibly do that? If you know all about him, then you know he and I have a history. He hates me and he'd never believe anything I told him."

 

"Yes, I know all about your history with him. I know both sides of it. You know only yours."

 

"What other side was there? He tortured me! And he enjoyed every minute of it!"

 

"That's certainly your side; as you know it. Did you know that he was the one who brought you back to life? Did you know that that bearded, long-haired hippy was Alex and he was watching over you to make sure you weren't injured too badly? Did you know he was the one who ran over that man in the garage who was shooting at you?"

 

Walter stared blankly at him.

 

"Of course you didn't. You know a great deal about Alex but you don't really know him at all."

 

"What's to know? He made it into the Bureau and after a few months he joined the enemy. That seems pretty clear cut to me."

 

"Then you're refusing this lesson?"

 

"I'm saying you are asking the impossible. I'm not a magician. There's no way I could ever get to Krycek. You said I had a choice. Is there some other thing you could ask of me instead of this?"

 

"If you choose not to do this, then your only other choice is to go back and start all over again as a newborn with a full life ahead of you to live. Hopefully in that new life you will learn your final lesson."

 

"You mean I'd die."

 

"I mean Walter Skinner would cease to exist. You would simply be reborn again and again until you learn your final lesson."

 

"You don't leave me much choice." 

 

"We all have lessons to learn before we can move on. The decision is yours to make. You can either go back and attempt to learn your final lesson in this life, or you can choose to start over again in a new life."

 

"And if I choose to go back and try it with Krycek and fail?"

 

"If you choose to do a job, I have every confidence that it will be done." Peter smiled at him.

 

"What you are asking is impossible – the man has absolutely no redeeming qualities at all. How am I supposed to over come that?"

 

"I'm sure you'll find a way."

 

"And what exactly is it that I'm supposed to do with him? How is it that I'm supposed to redeem him? Make him do some good deeds or what?"

 

"Alex has learned many lessons in his life times but he has not learned one very important one and that is to trust."

 

"And how will I know if and when he has learned this lesson?"

 

"You will know. I will send you a message."

 

"What? A letter? A phone call? What should I be looking for?"

 

"No, no. It will be much more subtle than that. Maybe something like this." He waved a finger in the air and once again Walter could hear the music from beyond the gates. He couldn't quite make out the instruments, it was unlike anything he had ever heard before but it was, without a doubt, the most beautiful music he had ever heard. And then it was gone. "Please," he asked. "I'd like to hear more."

 

"You will – when the time is right." Peter stood and extended his hand to Walter.

 

"This is an impossible thing you've asked of me, Peter, but I will give it my best shot."

 

"I know you will. I'm an excellent judge of character and I know you have it in you to save this man's soul."

 

"And if I fail, will the job fall to someone else?"

 

"No. If you should fail then I'm afraid that he wins another soul." He nodded to where Satan sat watching them.

 

"I'm Krycek's only chance?"

 

"You are. He is close to the end of his days if drastic changes aren't made and made immediately."

 

Walter released Peter's hand and turned to leave. "I don't even know where to find him. What if I don't get to him in time?"

 

"Then Alex is lost and the evil one wins."

 

Walter walked back down the path into the late afternoon mist.

 

xxxxxx

 

"Mulder, he's waking up!" 

 

"Sir? How are you feeling?" Mulder asked.

 

"Huh?" Walter mumbled groggily and lifted a hand up to his bandaged head.

 

"Can I get you anything? Here; drink some water." Scully held a cup with a straw up to him.

 

"What happened?" Walter rasped through dry lips.

 

"Automobile accident, two days ago." Mulder answered then added, "Did Krycek have anything to do with it?"

 

"Krycek?" Walter asked.

 

"Yeah, you were mumbling something about Krycek."

 

Memory came flooding back to Walter then but it wasn't of Alex Krycek, it was of a man in a white robe sitting behind a desk.

 

"Uhh I don't know. I can't remember. I was driving home from work … that's about all I can remember." He shifted in his bed trying to get a bit more comfortable. Mulder pressed the lever and raised the head of the bed a bit. "Thanks."

 

"Were you working on something that involved Krycek? I haven't seen him in months."

 

"No. Maybe you misunderstood."

 

"He didn’t misunderstand, Sir. I heard you too. You said the name Krycek clearly a couple of times." Scully offered.

 

"I can't imagine why." Walter said as he rubbed his forehead. "My head aches."

 

"I'll check with the nurse and see if the doctor left orders for any pain meds." Scully said and disappeared from the room.

 

"What is the extent of my injuries and was anyone else hurt?" Walter asked as he tried to flex his muscles one at a time.

 

"A few cuts, a lot of bruises, no broken bones, just a major bump on the side of your head where you hit the window." 

 

"Nothing serious then, good, I need to get out of here." Walter tried to sit up but couldn't.

 

"It was serious enough that you've been unconscious for two days. I think you need to just lay back and rest." Mulder pressed a hand against Walter's shoulder. "Is there something you need to take care of? Can I do it for you?"

 

"No. No thank you, Mulder. I just have things that I need to be doing. Can you get me the doctor? I need to see about getting out of here."

 

 

They managed to keep him there two more days and that was only because he was too weak to leave on his own. On the third morning, Walter was dressed and waiting when the doctor made his rounds and checked himself out of the hospital.

 

Once home again in his apartment, Walter tried to figure out how to get in touch with Krycek. He paced the floor wondering and said a little prayer, "If I'm supposed to help Krycek then you'd better tell me how to find him because I'm coming up blank here."

 

He sat down at his desk and started thumbing through his mail. He opened his electric bill, one hundred twenty four dollars. He tossed it aside. The next was an advertisement that had been slightly mangled. He smoothed it out and found it to be from his favorite shoe store announcing a sale. "It's as easy as one, two, three, four," it proclaimed. "One, come in and look at the latest styles; two, pick out what you want; three, charge it; and four, pay no interest for twelve months." He placed it over with the electric bill; he could use some new shoes. The rest of it was junk and he tossed it.

 

He realized he still had his hospital wrist band on so he pulled his scissors out of the desk drawer and snipped it off. Reading it he saw that Doctor Wilson's first name was Peter. His name was next and then his patient number. The first three digits were in bold print. "One, two, four". He tossed it into the garbage. He wandered over and turned the TV on. There was a big fire in the warehouse district. A building was blazing and the announcer was telling every one to stay away from One Hundred and Twenty Fourth Street. He repeated it over and over again; "Everyone please stay away from One Hundred and Twenty Fourth Street." He flipped the channels and got the same fire on each channel, the same warning, "Stay away from One Hundred and Twenty Fourth Street." He flipped the TV off and began pacing again.

 

"Come on, Saint Peter. If you expect me to do this job you've got to give me some help here. Where can I find Krycek? Give me some kind of sign!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

He wandered into the kitchen and fixed himself a sandwich for lunch. He brought it back into his desk and turned on his computer. He figured he may as well pay his bill while it was lying there. He brought up his account and typed in the number – one hundred twenty four. He reached over for the advertisement that had bent back to it's original warped shape and could just see the big numbers across the top One, Two, Four; the number three being lost in the fold. Something clicked in his brain just then.

 

ONE HUNDRED TWENTY FOUR!!! He reached into the trash and pulled out his hospital bracelet. One Hundred Twenty Four was in bold print. He flipped the TV back on and there it was again – big fire over on One Hundred and Twenty Fourth Street.

 

He grabbed his jacket, car keys and headed out. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got there but he felt sure he would figure it out. The warehouse district! That would be exactly the type of place he could see Krycek living. Some of the old buildings had been made into apartments. Not the plush kind that you see in some of the refurbished buildings in the inner city areas but the cheap kind. No lease, no names, just cash money accepted for however many hours, days, or weeks you could stand it.

 

He was stopped just before the block where the fire was but he showed his I.D. and they let him through. He passed by the building on fire and hoped that wasn't Krycek's final exit. He thought of Satan's leering smile and cringed. He glanced at the street sign and saw he was right in the center of the oldest part of the city; Main Street and One Hundred Twenty Fourth Street. He saw the numbers on the front of the buildings. A block further and he saw it. A building was numbered One Hundred Twenty Four. He pulled around back and parked in the alley. 

 

The desk clerk was busy watching soaps on her small black and white TV but finally came out when he called to her that he was from the F.B.I. and held up his badge. She stubbed her cigarette out in an over-flowing ash tray sitting on the counter. 

 

"Look, I don't know nothin' about nothin'. I been watchin' my soaps and I don't know nothin 'bout that damned fire."

 

"This isn't about the fire. I'm looking for someone. It's personal, not business related, but it's extremely urgent that I find him. His name is Alex Krycek or he might be using the name of Alex Artzen."

 

"We don't much go by names 'round here. They pay me, they get a room. They don't pay me and my cousin Vinny comes in with a coupla friends and throws them out."

 

"All right – he's late thirties, dark hair, about my height but thinner. And he has a prosthetic left arm. Do you have anyone like that here?"

 

"Oh, you mean the gimp. Yeah. He's here. Sure hope he's not in any trouble. He's 'bout the only client I got that pays me on time and don't give me no trouble."

 

"He's not in any trouble, I assure you. As I said, it's personal and very urgent. Could you tell me his room number please?" He slid a hundred dollar bill onto the counter.

 

"Third floor, end of the hall. Three twelve." She grabbed up the bill and stuffed it down the front of her stained blouse.

 

"Thank you!" He said and bolted for the stairway.

 

The three flights of stairs left him temporarily winded but by the time he got to the door he was fine. There was a light on underneath the door so he was pretty sure Krycek was home. He stopped for a moment wondering what he was going to say and decided to just go for it. He'd think of something. He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again harder – still no answer. He called out. "Krycek, its Skinner. I need to talk with you. It's important." He pounded again. 

 

"Go away!"

 

"I said I need to talk with you. It's urgent." He pounded again.

 

"GO AWAY!"

 

Skinner noticed the window and looked out onto the fire escape. He opened it, climbed out and walked the few steps over to the window looking into Krycek's apartment. He cleaned the dirt off and looked in. Krycek was sitting at the small kitchen table with a gun in his hand. He raised it and placed the barrel in his mouth.

 

"NO!" Walter yelled and used his elbow to break the window. He reached in, undid the lock and climbed in.

 

Krycek sat numbly watching him but the surprise was enough for him to take the gun out of his mouth and ask, "What the hell do you want, Skinner?"

 

Walter panted until he caught his breath. "Look; I know this is out of left field but I need to talk with you."

 

"So talk."

 

"My head is killing me." He pulled a bottle of Tylenol out of his pocket. "May I have some water to take these?"

 

Krycek nodded to the cupboard. "Knock yourself out." He said as he slouched back in his chair with the gun dangling in his lap.

 

Walter took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water. "Is it all right if I sit?"

 

"Go for it." Krycek kicked the other kitchen chair out from under the table and Walter sat down. "I thought you were in the hospital?"

 

"I just got out a little while ago."

 

"And you came looking for me? I'm honored." Krycek sneered, his hand fingering the gun in his lap.

 

"Krycek, this is as awkward for me as it is for you; maybe more so." He stalled, searching for words.

 

"If you came here looking for help on some case, you're out of luck. I'm out of it now."

 

"No. That's not why I came. I … something strange happened to me while I was unconscious."

 

"Oh I get it. You had one of those near-death experiences. Shouldn't you be talking about this with Mulder? That's more along his line, I would think."

 

"Do you believe in things like that; those types of experiences?"

 

"Shit, I don't know. Some of it's probably true but most of it is just an excuse to get a spot on TV or write a book."

 

"This was serious, Krycek."

 

"So you had an NDE and I'm assuming it has something to do with me or you wouldn't be here?"

 

"That's right. I was given a choice. I could start life over again as a new born baby or I could come back as Walter Skinner and finish learning my lessons."

 

"And since you're here, I take it you chose to come back and learn your lesson. What lesson is it you need to learn and what has it got to do with me?"

 

"Forgiveness."

 

Krycek stared at him for a few minutes then laughed out loud. "You're joking, right? You came here to forgive me?" He laughed again.

 

"That's part of it. There's another part."

 

"Please tell me. I haven't had a good laugh in a long time."

 

"This is serious, Krycek. I believe this happened. I believe I had this experience and that I was meant to come here. How else do you explain how I found you? It was a series of coincidences that led me to you. I had no idea whatsoever how to find you. Then it all came together. I kept seeing the number One Twenty Four everywhere. I came here not knowing where I was headed other than One Hundred Twenty Fourth Street then I saw the building number and stopped."

 

"You saw the number where?"

 

"On my hospital I.D. bracelet, on my electric bill, on an advertisement, on the fire on TV – it all came together in a flash. I had been pacing the floor praying for some kind of signal, some way to find you."

 

"So you think finding me was some sort of Divine Intervention?" Alex sneered.

 

"I do."

 

Krycek laughed again. "Five minutes later and you'd have been too late."

 

"I know. That's what I was told."

 

"What were you told?" Krycek got a little more serious then.

 

"I was told that you were nearing the end of your days and that if something wasn't done immediately, you would be lost."

 

"Lost?" Krycek asked with just a touch of sarcasm. "I've been lost my entire life!"

 

"I know. He told me."

 

"He who?"

 

"Peter. Saint Peter."

 

"And he told you to bring me this fairy tale to what purpose?"

 

"He wants to save your soul."

 

Krycek stood up and walked over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water, uncapped it and drank. "It's about thirty eight years too late for that."

 

"No it's not! He sent me here to help you."

 

"Help me? How in the hell are you supposed to do that?"

 

"I have no idea. I only know that we have to try, Krycek. I'm the last chance you have. Somehow, we've got to teach you how to trust."

 

"And in doing this, you learn how to forgive – sort of a two for one kind of deal."

 

"I guess so. Hell, I don't know. I just know it was real. It wasn't a dream. I found you and I stopped you from doing what you were planning on doing." He glanced at the gun on the table.

 

"You seriously think you can stop me?" He gave another little laugh. "I can end it all any time I want to. You have no say in the matter, you and your drug induced nightmare."

 

"Call it what you want but the fact remains that I found you when I hadn't been able to find you before for years. I got here in time and you put that thing down. While you're still alive, you still have a chance. Kill yourself and it's all over for you for good."

 

"And what happens if you fail in this glorious mission of yours? To you, I mean."

 

"I will have to keep on living one life after another until I can learn how to forgive."

 

"So you need to learn how to forgive and I need to learn how to trust. Just how do you propose we do this?" Krycek sat back down across from Walter.

 

"I don't know but it's something we both need to do. I was hoping you might have some ideas."

 

"Well, I don't. I'm sure Mulder or Scully would have the scientific explanation for what you obviously went through but I doubt it has any real significance."

 

"You're unwilling even to try? I told Peter you'd never listen to me."

 

"Why would you accept such a stupid mission?"

 

"Because I wasn't ready to die yet. And I'm surprised that you're so anxious to."

 

Krycek sat staring at him. "You really believe in all this shit?"

 

"I do. I have to admit that I never did before but this was all too real. It happened."

 

"I believe you think it happened but that doesn't make me believe it actually did happen."

 

"You think this was all a dream?"

 

"More or less."

 

"Then how do you explain how I found you?"

 

"I don't know; coincidence."

 

"I believe that coincidences happen but several in a row?"

 

"You found me, that’s one."

 

"But how I found you was several at once; all the numbers the same."

 

"Ok. So you found me by Devine Intervention. You stopped me, temporarily, from blowing my brains out. Where do we go from here? You and I both know, you are never going to forgive me for all the things I've done and if there's one thing I've learned in life, it NOT to trust anyone."

 

"That's the way we both feel right now. We have to figure out a way to get passed all of that."

 

"Get passed it?" He chuckled. "There's just no getting passed some things, Skinner."

 

"We will. We'll work this out somehow. At least we're talking. That's a start. I didn't think I'd even be able to find you."

 

"And you think talking will do the trick? You're dreaming!"

 

"I think we need to at least try. Can we just do that?"

 

"Sure, I'm game." Krycek gave a tired sigh. "I've got nothing else planned for this afternoon. What would you like to talk about?"

 

"You – I want to know everything there is to know about you and how you got to where you are right now. I want to understand what makes you tick. Maybe if I understand you a little better I can work on forgiving you."

 

"There's not that much to tell. You know my story. I got on at the Bureau and made the stupid mistake of believing Old Smokey when he gave me the bull about saving the world. I stepped across the line and by the time I found out I was on the wrong side, I couldn't get back – period."

 

"No – start at the beginning. I want to know everything. Where were you born, tell me about your family; what were they like? Where did you go to school? What pets did you have? What was it like for you growing up?"

 

Krycek stared at him for a while then spoke, "What has my childhood got to do with anything?"

 

"I don't know. I just want to understand you and I can't do that unless I know you better. I don't need a run down of your record of misdeeds since you left the Bureau. I'm familiar with most of them."

 

"OK. If that's what you want. I was born in Springfield, Ohio. I don't know anything about my parents. I was one of those babies that you read about in the newspapers. I was thrown away in a card board box in a dumpster. A couple of kids found me. They thought they were digging out a puppy or a kitten someone had dumped. They found me. I grew up in an orphanage there in Springfield and was placed in foster care at the age of ten." He began to squirm in his chair a bit. "Things … didn't work out and I ran away. I've been on my own every since."

 

"At the age of ten – how did you survive?" Walter was aghast. He knew what had happened to cause Krycek to run away. He didn't need to hear the words. He could see it all in Krycek's eyes.

 

"I found work here and there and when I couldn't find a way to make any money, I'd steal from the grocery stores or eat out of restaurant dumpsters."

 

"Where did you sleep?"

 

"Wherever I was when I was tired; in alley ways, on fire escapes, in parked cars. Sometimes I'd slip into a movie theater and sleep there. Many a night popcorn picked up off the floor was my dinner."

 

"Shit." Walter sympathized.

 

"I got by. I got bigger, smarter, and by age thirteen I was turning tricks for my keep. I managed to keep myself fed, clothed, and in school. I knew education was my way out of the miserable life I was leading so I stuck to it. Right after high school, I entered the police academy."

 

"You wanted to be a policeman?"

 

"I did. It's all I ever wanted. My second year there I was recruited by the Bureau. I joined up and made it through Quantico."

 

"That's amazing."

 

"My first day at the Hoover, I met Spender. He took me into his office and told me he'd been keeping an eye on me and that he would have some special assignments for me. I wasn't to discuss them with anyone else and then he dismissed me to report to my A.D."

 

"Spender doesn't have an office in the Hoover."

 

"I know that now. I didn't then."

 

"Go on."

 

"That's about it. You know the rest of the story. I accepted each and every assignment, convinced that I was doing my part in saving the world and all the time I was doing the old man's dirty work and didn't even know it."

 

"Why didn't you go to your A.D. when you realized what was happening?"

 

"By then it was too late. I had already taken out three men at Spender's request. He had me by the balls and we both knew it. I either continued following his orders or he turned me in. He had proof, witnesses, photographs etc. I couldn't see spending the rest of my life behind bars."

 

"So what brought you to this point today?" Walter nodded towards the gun lying on the table now. 

 

"I did something I should have done years ago."

 

"What was that?"

 

"I put a bullet right between the old man's eyes and another in the back of his head for good measure."

 

"He's dead? Spender is dead?"

 

"He is. But I'm not going to jail for the bastard. I'll end it all right here before I do that."

 

"Maybe you could claim self defense?"

 

"The Consortium is all but defunct but there are still a few of them around with enough power to see that I never made it to trial. In a cell, I'd be a sitting duck."

 

"There must be a way." Walter stood and started to pace.

 

"What difference does it make to you? All you need to do is say you forgive me and you can go merrily on your way."

 

"I was asked to help you. That's what I'm going to do but first I've got to figure out how."

 

"This is the only way out for me now." Krycek said and held up his gun.

 

"No! If you do that, you're damned to Hell for all eternity. I've seen it, Krycek. I was twenty feet from it. I could feel the heat and smell the flesh burning and I saw Him. I saw Him sitting there with an obscene grin on his face as he watched the tortured souls. You don't want to go there."

 

"You really believe in all this crap?"

 

"I do! And you've got to believe it too before it's too late."

 

"What if I said I do believe it but I just don't really care any more?"

 

"Yes you do care! You have to care, Krycek. Does anyone else know where you live?"

 

"Uh huh. A few of the people from the group; why?"

 

"We've got to get you out of here then. Come on. Grab a few things and let's go."

 

"Go? Go where?"

 

"I don't know. It will come to me as we're going. I just know we need to get out of here. And we need to do it right now." He pulled Krycek to his feet. "I got a bad feeling, Krycek. We need to get out of here."

 

Just then someone started pounding on the front door. It jolted them both with fear. 

 

"Forget packing. Let's go." Walter said and pushed Krycek towards the window.

 

Out the fire escape they went, down into the alley and hopped into Walter's car. They were gone in an instant. They dodged between alleyways, crossed over main streets until they made it up on the freeway. They had no sooner got going good when Walter pulled the car over and stopped.

 

"What's wrong? Why are we stopping here?" 

 

"I don't feel good … my head. You need to drive. I feel dizzy." 

 

Krycek got out quickly and came around to the driver's side. Walter opened the door and stumbled out. Krycek caught him. "Hold on there. Don't you pass out on me now. You've got to save me, remember?"

 

"Huh? Oh yeah, right." Walter hung on while Krycek steered him around to the passenger side and helped him in.

 

Krycek got behind the wheel and they were off again. The next thing Walter knew he was being hauled out of the car and into the elevator. He leaned his head back against the wall and recognized it as

the elevator in his apartment building. "I'm sorry. I guess I passed out."

 

"It's all right. I'll get you upstairs and then I'm off." Krycek said as he steadied him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

They stopped in front of his door and Walter fumbled with his keys and dropped them. Krycek picked them up and unlocked the door. They went in and he helped Walter to lie down on the couch.

 

"You want me to call the doctor?"

 

"No! I just need to rest for a few minutes. I'm fine."

 

"Ok. Your choice. I'm out of here." As Krycek turned to go, someone knocked on the door. 

 

"Damn." Walter said and sat up rubbing the side of his head.

 

"Skinner? Skinner?" The pounding was now accompanied by Mulder's voice.

 

"Upstairs." Walter nodded to Krycek who immediately took them two at a time and was out of sight by the time Walter answered the door.

 

"What is it, Mulder?" He said as he pulled the door open.

 

"I have great news. What took you so long to answer the door? I called but you didn't answer. I was worried."

 

"I was lying down, Mulder. What is it?" He closed the door as Mulder entered.

 

"Cancer man – he's dead. The body was just found – two bullets in the head."

 

"That is good news. Whoever did it should get a medal."

 

"I agree. I wonder who did it. Do you have any idea?" Mulder asked.

 

"Probably someone he double-crossed along the way."

 

"Yeah. We probably never will know who did the actual deed. Most likely some hit man from out of town. It looks professional."

 

Walter sat back down wearily on the couch.

 

"Are you ok, Sir?" Mulder asked. "You don't look too good."

 

"I'm fine. I just got out of the hospital this morning, remember? I need a few days to get my strength back."

 

"I could get Scully over here to take a look at you. I'm supposed to meet her for dinner in a little while. Why don't you join us? We can make it a victory celebration."

 

"I appreciate the offer but what I need now is rest."

 

"Ok. That's probably best. You want us to bring you some dinner?"

 

"No thanks. I've got stuff for dinner." He stood up and walked Mulder to the door. "I just need a few days here to get myself together."

 

"Sure, sure. If you need anything, just call me or Scully."

 

"I'll do that. Thanks." He closed the door behind Mulder and made his way back to the couch.

 

"How are you doing?" He opened his eyes to see Krycek staring down at him. 

 

"Truth? I feel like shit. My head's killing me, I'm dizzy and I'm starving." He glanced over at the desk where his lunch sat with just one bite taken out of it.

 

"You haven't eaten today?"

 

"I had breakfast at the hospital, if you can call that breakfast. I almost had lunch but got side tracked."

 

"Saving me I suppose." Krycek chuckled.

 

"You got it."

 

"Ok. So I owe you. I'll fix you something to eat and then I'm out of here."

 

"You don't have to do that," Walter said and tried to rise up but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. 

 

"Sit. I'll throw something together. You rest."

 

Fifteen minutes later Krycek came back into the room. "Hey – you still hungry?"

 

"I could eat this coffee table."

 

"How about some stew and a salad instead?" He grinned and reached a hand down to Walter.

 

"It smells great!" Walter said as he took a seat at the kitchen table across from Krycek.

 

They both ate heartily and lingered over coffee.

 

"So tell me, Skinner. What was it like growing up with a father and mother? You also had a brother and sister; didn't you?"

 

Walter stopped with his coffee cup half way to his mouth and stared at him. It had never occurred to him that Krycek might wonder about something like that.

 

"Yes, I did have a brother and sister. It was – normal. Just like everybody else I knew."

 

"I'll bet it was wonderful! Did your mom cook and bake and stuff like that?"

 

"She did. She was quite the cook. In fact some of her baked goods won prizes at the county fairs."

 

"And your father; did he take you places? Like a ball game or fishing maybe?"

 

"Uh huh. When I was little he did. When I got older, I went with my friends."

 

"And your sister; I'll bet she was beautiful and had lots of boy friends."

 

"I wouldn't say she was beautiful. She was … pretty and she had a few boyfriends that hung around the place."

 

"And your brother; did the two of you have lots of fun together – playing games and hanging out together?"

 

"Actually no. My brother was six years older than me and we were totally different. In fact, my friends found it hard to believe he was my brother. He was more into books and the only game I can ever remember seeing him play was chess."

 

"You weren't into chess?"

 

"No. Not back then. I have played some years ago but growing up I was only interested in sports."

 

"Aahhh. I'll bet you were on all the teams."

 

"I was. I was pretty good at it too. Didn't you ever play any sports?"

 

"Oh yeah, a few, but only during school hours. After school I always had a job."

 

"I got my first job at fifteen. Our neighbor broke his leg one summer and I mowed and baled hay for him. Made enough money to buy an old pick up. Then, of course, I had to keep on finding odd jobs to buy parts and keep the thing running." Walter said as he remembered well that first vehicle he had ever owned.

 

"Your life could be a movie. It's so … perfect."

 

"Perfect?" Walter chuckled. "Hardly! Just look at me. I'm fifty-four years old, in a dead-end job, I'm alone, living in a place I hate. My life doesn't even approach being perfect."

 

"Is that the way you see yourself?" Krycek asked in disbelief. "I don't see you that way at all. You've led the perfect life. You were raised in a loving family, you were a war hero, you became the youngest A.D. the Bureau has ever had and the only reason you're alone is because you choose to be. You could have your choice of bed partners with just the crook of your finger."

 

"I don't want just a bed-partner. I want … Hell; I don't know what I want." Walter stood up, picked up his dishes and headed for the sink with Krycek following behind.

 

"The point is you could have anyone you wanted."

 

"As much as anyone else could, I suppose." Walter conceded. "But I don't want just someone. I want someone who could accept me as I am, warts and all. I don't want to have to change myself to what someone else thinks I should be. I've been down that road."

 

They rinsed their dishes off and put them in the dishwasher and returned to the living room.

 

"Tell me what it was like for you." Walter asked as he sat on the couch and Krycek paced near by. "I can't imagine what it was like, being on your own at age ten."

 

"It's not a pretty story."

 

"I want to hear it – from the beginning."

 

"I waited until I could hear my foster father snoring and then I climbed out my window. I jumped to a tree limb and lowered myself down to the ground and started running. I didn't stop until I was on the outskirts of town when I came to a truck stop. I saw a pickup truck sitting there with a bunch of stuff in the back covered up with a tarp. I climbed in, covered myself up and the next thing I knew we were on the road. I went to sleep and before I knew it we were in West Virginia. When the driver stopped at some place to eat, I jumped out. I went around behind the restaurant to use the bathroom and saw an employee coming out the back door and dumped a bag of garbage into the dumpster. As soon as he went back in, I climbed into the dumpster and had breakfast. I also stuffed my pockets with enough left over food to last for a while. I didn't know where I was until I noticed that all the license plates that I was seeing were different from what I was used to and realized that I was now in a different state."

 

"I decided I wanted to go to New York City. I had seen a picture of it in a magazine once and figured it was a big enough city. I could get lost there and no one would ever find me. I was right."

 

"You were never caught?"

 

"No. I guess there were enough kids wandering around the city at all hours that they didn't even notice one more."

 

"I still can't see how you managed to survive. You were just a little kid."

 

"I was little but I've always had this survival instinct. I knew I had to have food and I knew I had to have a way to get around so one night when I was walking I found a bike. Someone had left it out on the front porch. It had a bicycle lock on it and it took me forever but I finally managed to spring the lock. From then on, I had wheels. I tried at several fast-food places to find work but no one would hire me. A couple of them did give me free burgers though. I kept going and kept trying and one rainy night I found an alley door unlocked and went inside. I was in the back room of a whore house. One of the women found me and after she fed me and listened to my story she agreed to let me stay there in return for doing some chores around the place. She fixed a place for me in the store room. I stayed there for six months, all that first winter, and then the place got raided. I managed to hide in a cupboard until after the cops left then I took off."

 

"Where did you go next?"

 

"I wandered around the city, ate out of dumpsters, got a few little jobs, like sweeping the sidewalks, washing windows, things like that. I slept wherever I could find a place. In parked cars, in apartment house hallways, and if I could manage to slip into a theater, I'd sleep there. Sometimes I'd hide out in supermarket bathrooms until after the store closed then I'd find something to eat and some place to sleep. There were always places to find food if you didn't mind scraping the ants off first and I always found a place to sleep."

 

"That's not much of a life. Didn't you ever think of going to the authorities?"

 

"And be put back in that home again and maybe even back with that bastard who used me? No! The thought never crossed my mind to go back. Whatever happened to me had to be better than that." Krycek leaned back against Walter's desk as he spoke.

 

"And you managed somehow to remain in school?"

 

"I did. I spent a lot of time at the library. I slept there a lot. I found a map of the city there and found an elementary school near by. I went in and enrolled that first fall. I told them my mother was sick and couldn't come in so they just gave me papers for her to sign. I took them to the library and worked and worked until I came up with a signature that looked like an adults. When I took them back the next day, they hardly even looked at them. Just gave them a quick glance and assigned me a classroom."

 

"Who signed your report cards? You?"

 

"No. I was afraid that might be looked at a little closer so I had one of the girls at the house sign them while I stayed there. After that, I always managed to find someone willing to sign them for me."

 

"And no one ever noticed that the handwriting was different each time?"

 

"I would use the same person over and over again whenever I could. No one ever mentioned anything about the signatures being different."

 

"You were lucky."

 

"I guess so, if you can call that lucky."

 

"Did you ever find any place to stay for any length of time?"

 

"I did. I spent three years living in the cellar of a bar on west One Hundred and Fifty Fourth Street. I snuck in there one night when the dish washer was in the alley taking a piss. It was cold and rainy and I needed a place to get out of the weather. I had a bad cold and I knew I needed to get inside somewhere. The guy came back in and caught me. I told him my story and he showed me how to get down into the cellar. There was a cot down there and some blankets. Someone had obviously stayed down there before. The next morning, I met the old man who owned the bar. He came down stairs and met me and after listening to me, he agreed to let me stay just until I got over my cold. He brought me food and some cough medicine. While I was down there, I cleaned the place up. Stuff had been just stacked down there for years. I organized everything and cleaned it all up. I guess it impressed the old man and he let me stay on. A month or so later, the dish washer quit and I talked the owner into letting me have the job."

 

"And you had it for three years?"

 

"I did. Until I graduated eight grade. By then I had gotten some growth to me and was big enough to pass for sixteen. I had learned to use the computer at the library and printed myself up a birth certificate. That summer I was able to get jobs at McDonalds and Jack In The Box. The old man took sick and sold the place. When he left, so did I."

 

"You left with him?"

 

"No. He moved out west somewhere. I found a place where I could rent a room. I had to print up some papers showing that I was an emancipated minor but that was no problem. I just looked up the forms in the library and printed them out."

 

"So you worked at fast food places all through high school?"

 

"No. Just my first two years. By my junior year, I had filled out enough and gotten some strength to me and I got a job during the summer working for a construction company. I made good money there. Worked my ass off but the money was worth it. I made enough so that I didn't have to work at the fast food places after school any more. I worked out a budget and put aside enough to pay my rent through to the next summer and stocked up on canned food. I had a little hot plate in my room and a couple of pans and dishes and stuff that I'd picked up at Goodwill and fixed my own meals. My classes all came easy to me and I started making a little extra money tutoring other students. When I wasn't doing that, I took Karate classes."

 

"By then you had already decided you wanted to be a cop?"

 

"Yeah. That was always in the back of my mind. I had checked out and read every book on the subject that I could find. I started taking some night time classes whenever I could afford it."

 

"So there never was a time in your life when you weren't working?"

 

"No. Not after the age of ten."

 

"I can see why you'd think my life was so perfect."

 

"I didn't mind the working. I was glad to have whatever job I could get. What I minded the most was … being alone."

 

"That's understandable."

 

"Well it wasn't to me. I'd never had anyone so I couldn't understand why I ached for just someone to talk to or to be with evenings. I finally convinced myself that I didn't need anyone."

 

"That was self-preservation kicking in."

 

"Maybe. Whatever it was, it got me through."

 

"You've had a very difficult life. What I don't and can't understand is why after working so hard all those years, you threw it all away to join up with Smoking Man?"

 

Krycek grimaced at the name and turned his face away for a moment. "I wanted … so badly to help, to make a difference. All I was getting from my A.D. was coffee runs and wire taps and nonsense things that any rookie could do."

 

"Well, you were a rookie."

 

"I know that! Now, I know that. But then, I was young and green and Spender offered me a chance to help save the world and I jumped at it."

 

"And you didn't think you could go to your A.D. once you found out what you'd gotten yourself into?"

 

"No. By then, I didn't know who to trust. I knew the old man had powerful friends inside the Bureau; hell, he was there all the time."

 

"I wish you'd come to me."

 

"There was no way I could do that. By then both you and Mulder hated me and I guess I got back at the two of you every way I could. I did do some good though. I managed to pull both of your asses out of the fire a time or two and you never even knew it."

 

"When?"

 

"It doesn't matter now. It's over and done with. Listen, if you're feeling better now, I'll be on my way. I got something I need to take care of." Krycek said as he headed for the door.

 

"I do feel better now that I've eaten; thank you for dinner. I wish you would re-consider what you were planning on doing." He started to get up but was too drained and just slumped back down.

 

"You all right? You want me to call Mulder or Scully?" Krycek asked as he took a few steps back towards the couch.

 

"I'm fine. I'm just a little weak. I had some pills I was supposed to take. I guess I should have taken them." 

 

"Where are they?"

 

"I don't know – must be in my jacket pocket; upstairs."

 

Krycek took off up the stairs and was back in Skinner's closet when he heard the commotion. First banging on the door and then the door was kicked open. He made it out onto the upstairs landing just as two men grabbed Skinner up off the couch and started slapping him around. 

 

"Where is he?" they screamed at him. "We know you're hiding him. The old woman told us you came for him." One of them was holding Skinner's arms from behind and the other was raining blows on him

 

Krycek caught them from behind, knocking them all to the floor. He grabbed the first guy with an arm around his throat and squeezed until he passed out. Before he could let go the second guy had thrown himself at them. Skinner managed to throw a glancing blow to the guy's side taking enough steam out of him and giving Krycek time to crawl out from under them both and levering a kick to the second guy's throat. He grabbed Skinner by the arm and yanked him up and out the door.

 

They ran down the hallway and turned left. "Where you going?" Skinner asked. "The elevator is that way."

 

"Maintenance elevator. Come on." He pulled at Skinner.

 

"What? The door's kept locked to that." 

 

Krycek pulled out his pick as they ran down the hall. No sooner had they stopped running, and then Krycek had the door open. Skinner stepped inside and pressed the down button. They stood facing each other gasping for breath.

 

"You should have stayed out of this, Skinner. They know you helped me now. They'll never let up."

 

"No! I'm glad I did." Walter gasped. The door slid open and Krycek peered out carefully.

 

They hurried to Skinner's car and got in, Krycek behind the wheel. "I'm taking you to Mulder's. He'll be able to look after you."

 

"No! He's just settling in back at the Bureau, getting things back on track with Scully. I don't want to drag him into this."

 

"Where then? Where can I take you that you'll be safe?" Krycek asked as they pulled up on the highway.

 

"I don't know. I could call in and ask for a safe house, I guess."

 

"That's no good. I'm sure they know all the safe houses."

 

"Well where are you going? You can't go back to your apartment."

 

"I don't know. I didn't plan on this. I didn't think I'd be doing any more running but I'll be damned if I'll let those bastards take me out."

 

"Just keep driving then. Head west."

 

"West? Where west?" Krycek asked.

 

"I don't care. Just find some place where we can stop for the night and get a few hours rest. Then we can decide what to do next."

 

They drove for about an hour when they spotted a Motel 6 and pulled off the highway.

 

"I just realized I don't have my wallet with me. See if you can find an ATM somewhere." Walter said.

 

"I've got some money. I do think we need to conserve it as much as possible though. I think we should just get one room, something around back. Would you be Ok with that?"

 

"Not a problem." Walter said, too tired to offer any objections.

 

"I just need to be where I can keep an eye on you in case our friends show up." Krycek said as he pulled the car up in front of the office. "Wait here. If you see anything suspicious, lay on the horn and I'll be right out."

 

Minutes later they were in their room and Walter was stretched out on one of the two queen sized beds. 

 

"Here." Krycek said and nudged Walter on the shoulder.

 

"Huh?" Walter looked up to see Krycek handing him a glass of water and two capsules. "Oh, my pills. You got them?"

 

"Yeah. I had just found them when I heard the commotion down stairs. I stuck them in my pocket."

 

"Thanks." Walter took them gratefully and swallowed them down.

 

"How are you feeling?" Krycek asked as he sat on the edge of the bed opposite Walter's.

 

"Not too bad. A little shaken up but I feel a hell of a lot better now than I did an hour ago."

 

"Good. What you probably need is some sleep right now but if you feel up to it, we really do need to talk."

 

Walter levered himself up into a sitting position. "I agree. We need to talk. How much time do you think we have before they come after us?"

 

"I'm sure they're already looking for us. It's only a matter of time before your car is spotted."

 

"That's what I was thinking. First thing we need to do is get rid of the car."

 

"No. The first thing we need to do is find a safe place for you to stay. I know these guys and I know who sent them. I can handle them but I want you safe first."

 

"Who are they? Who sent them and why? If the old man's dead, what do they care any more? Doesn't that mean the Consortium is out of business?"

 

"There was one guy in the group who was always challenging Spender for leadership. He was one of the survivors. Those were his men in your apartment tonight. The group was more or less finished but the old man was trying to re-establish it so there are still a few around."

 

"Who is it? Who sent these men after you and why?"

 

"His name is Atkinson, Benjamin Atkinson – The Bulldog. That's what everyone calls him. He's short, stocky, and mean. When he grabs hold of an idea, he doesn't quit. Apparently, he's figured out that I … eliminated Spender. He's probably afraid I'll come after him next so he's making the first move."

 

"Does he have the power to pull something like this off? Taking over the Consortium?"

 

"There were those in the group who always thought he should have been the leader but somehow Spender always managed to hold on. Once the rest of the group learns of Spender's death, I'm sure they will back Bulldog and throw their power behind him."

 

"But why kill you? Didn't you just take out the one person that was standing in his way?"

 

"Because I worked for Spender. He wouldn't want any of the old man's team left to cause any trouble. And I'm the only one he had left."

 

"Maybe we should keep moving then." Walter said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat upright. 

 

"No. Not just yet. We've got some time. They have probably just now found out what kind of car you have and are looking around town for it. It will be several hours before they realize you aren't in town any longer. Maybe this would be a good time for you to go visit your brother?"

 

"No. I'm not bringing all this shit down on him and his family. Besides, once they realize I'm out of town, won't a relative be the next place they'll check?"

 

"You're probably right. What about a friend somewhere, maybe an old girl friend?"

 

"No. I think we need to stick together. We can watch each other's back."

 

"No, Skinner. I want you out of this." Krycek stood and began to pace.

 

"A few hours ago, you were on the verge of ending it all, Krycek. Now there's someone out there willing to do the job for you. Why are you running?"

 

"Well, it's an entirely different ball game now. If I decide to end my life, I can and will when I choose to but I'll be damned if I'll let some hired punks make that decision for me."

 

"I guess I can understand that. Where the hell are we anyway?" Skinner asked as he got up and headed for the bathroom. 

 

"Outskirts of Winchester." Krycek answered as he pulled the drapes back with one finger and peeked out the window.

 

"Winchester. Ok. This town is big enough to have several ATMs. In the morning, we'll get as much out as we can and see what we can get for my car."

 

"Skinner, there's no need for you to do all that. I've been on the run many times before. I can just grab a bus and head out somewhere but first I want to make sure you're safe. I think we should call Mulder."

 

Skinner ignored the comment and went on into the bathroom. When he came out a few minutes later, he lay back down on the bed, kicking his shoes off over the side. "Forget Mulder. This is something that I need to do; remember?"

 

Krycek went into the bathroom, turned on the shower and called Mulder.

 

"Mulder"

 

"Mulder, its Alex Krycek. Please don't hang up. This is about Skinner."

 

"What do you know about Skinner? Do you know where he is?"

 

"Yes. He's with me. I need you to come here and get him."

 

"What's he doing at your place and why can't he come over here himself?"

 

"We're not at my place. It's a long story but we were at my place when a couple of goons broke in and tried to kill me. Skinner saved my life. Now they are after the both of us. I need you to come here and take him someplace safe; stay with him until I can handle the situation."

 

"Why don't you just bring him here? Is he hurt?"

 

"No he's not hurt. He got slapped around a little bit but he's Ok. He's just out of the hospital though and I think he left too early. He's pretty weak."

 

"Let me talk to him."

 

"No. He's asleep. He doesn't want to go back. He's got this crazy notion in his head that he wants to help me … get these guys. I can handle this, Mulder, but I can't do that and look after Skinner too. Will you come?"

 

"Yeah, I'll come. This better not be some trick of yours, Krycek."

 

"It isn't, Mulder, I swear!"

 

"Ok. Give me the address."

 

"We're about seventy five miles out in the town of Winchester. We're at the Motel 6 in room 214. It's around back. You can confirm that if you want by calling the front desk. I registered us as brothers under the names of Christian and Byron Chatsworth. I recommend you do not have them ring the room as that would wake Skinner up and he would be out of here before you arrive."

 

"How long are you going to be there?"

 

"I'll stall until you can get here. I suggested we needed a few hours sleep. So hopefully, he'll sleep until you get here."

 

"And where are you that he can't hear you?"

 

"In the bathroom with the shower running."

 

"Ok. I could use a little night air. I'll head in your direction."

 

"Good. Thank you, Mulder."

 

Krycek closed his cell and pocketed it, then stripped off his clothes and grabbed a quick shower. Skinner was snoring lightly when he came back into the room but roused a bit.

 

"Krycek? Everything Ok?"

 

"Yeah. Get some sleep. It'll be dawn in a few hours and we can grab a bite to eat and head out."

 

"Yeah, Ok." Skinner mumbled and dozed off again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

The pounding on the door brought them both instantly awake and to their feet. Krycek jumped to the window with his gun drawn, he peeked out to see Mulder standing there. He pulled the door open and let him in.

 

"Mulder? You called Mulder!" Skinner was angry.

 

"Yes, I called Mulder. You need to go back."

 

"I can take care of myself and I told you I'm not going back!"

 

"Sir? What's going on? Are you Ok?" Mulder walked in.

 

Krycek closed and locked the door behind him then said to Skinner. "Yes you are! You're in no shape to be on the run. Mulder will keep an eye on you until I get this thing taken care of."

 

"Krycek, I'm going with you! You can't do this alone."

 

"Yes I can. I work alone. And dragging you along will just slow me down."

 

"I can keep up with you any day of the week!" Skinner argued angrily.

 

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Mulder tried to get a word in.

 

"Under normal circumstances, yes you could but you've been injured, your reflexes are slowed. You could get us both killed."

 

"Then why don't we just keep heading west. Lay low until this thing blows over?"

 

"Because I know these guys and it's not going to blow over. I can take care of it."

 

"You'll get yourself killed if you try and do it alone. Is that what you're trying to do? Have them finish the job you started but didn't have the guts to finish?"

 

Krycek gritted his teeth in exasperation. "Skinner, you're not going with me. Period. I'll take care of this and I'll get in touch with Mulder and let him know when it's safe." Krycek grabbed his jacket. "I'm outta here."

 

"No!" Skinner grabbed Krycek's arm. "Don't do this, Krycek. Let me help you."

 

Krycek stared at Skinner for a minute then said to Mulder. "I'll be in touch." He took the keys to Skinner's car out of his pocket and tossed them to Mulder. "Don't let him come after me." Then he left.

 

"Krycek!" Skinner called after him but he was already headed down the stairs. Skinner could hear the thunk, thunk, thunk of footsteps on the metal stairway. A minute later he saw him crossing the parking area and heading for the highway and then he was out of sight.

 

"Sir? Can you tell me what's happening?" Mulder stood at the railing beside him.

 

"Krycek is planning on killing himself. I'm planning on stopping him." Skinner went back inside and pulled on his shoes and jacket. Mulder followed him in.

 

"So that's the good news. What I don't understand is why you're set on stopping him. I say good riddance."

 

"I can't explain it, Mulder. I just need to keep him alive." Skinner headed out the door with Mulder following behind.

 

"What is this 'thing' that he's going to take care of? Do we need to call the authorities?"

 

"No. First I need a cup of coffee then I need you to see if you can come up with anything on someone named Benjamin Atkinson a.k.a. 'The Bulldog".

 

"I've never heard of anyone by that name. You want to fill me in?"

 

Skinner stopped in at the office to pay and found that his 'brother' had paid in advance when they checked in. They walked next door to a small restaurant and ordered coffee.

 

"I followed a hunch and found out where Krycek lives. I went there to talk with him and found him about to commit suicide. We talked for a few minutes then some goons showed up. We took off out the fire escape. I wasn't feeling too well so Krycek drove me home. Apparently they figured out who I was and where I lived. They came to my place; we had a little go-round with them and took off. Now you know as much as I do."

 

"No I don't. Why was Krycek going to kill himself? Who are these men and why were they after him? And most important of all, if Krycek was trying to kill himself, why did you stop him?"

 

"Would you stand by and do nothing if you saw someone putting the barrel of a gun in his mouth?"

 

"If it was Krycek; maybe."

 

"No you wouldn't. You'd have done the same thing I did."

 

Their breakfast was placed in front of them and they both ate silently for a while before Mulder asked. "He didn't say why these men wanted to kill him?"

 

"He said that Smoking Man was dead and that these men probably thought he'd done the deed."

 

"Did he?"

 

"Who knows?" Skinner shrugged. "Are you finished? We need to get on the road."

 

"Where to?" Mulder asked as he followed Skinner out of the restaurant.

 

"Home. I need to change and get busy on this."

 

"You can't go home. It isn't safe."

 

"No place is safe as long as Bulldog is still looking for Krycek and me."

 

"You can't go to your place and they'll probably be looking for me by now too. I know a place they'll never think to look. Come on. I'll send someone back for your car later."

 

 

Mulder called ahead to his three friends and the door was unbolted at their first knock and the Lone Gunmen let them inside.

 

"Hey Mulder," Frohike said as he opened the door. "Sheesh, Skinner, you don't look too good."

 

"You got some place where he can lie down. He's just out of the hospital a day or so." Mulder said.

 

"I'm fine. I don't need to lie down." Skinner scoffed.

 

"All that from his accident? Some of those bruises look pretty fresh." Byers asked.

 

"He got into a bit of a tussle and now he's got some goons out to get him." Mulder answered.

 

"Shit, Skinman! Aren't you a little old to be 'tussling'?" Langly asked.

 

Skinner ignored that crack and asked if they knew anything at all about someone named Benjamin Atkinson a.k.a. "The Bulldog". All three gunmen went to work at their computer stations and Mulder insisted Skinner take a seat on the couch to wait and see what they came up with. Skinner obeyed, reluctantly. He leaned back and in moments he was asleep.

 

It was two hours later when Langly's loud, "I got him!" woke Skinner up. He snapped alert and jumped up – wavering as a spell of dizziness washed over him. Mulder came over and steadied him.

 

"Easy there." Mulder took Skinner's arm.

 

"I'm all right. What did you find?" He went over to join the others who were leaning over Langly's chair and scanning his view screen.

 

"Former Mafia hit man and member of the Consortium for the last ten years." Skinner read.

 

"Shit, Skinman. I hope you didn't lead him here." Langly said.

 

"There's no way they could get in here. You're perfectly safe here." Byers assured him.

 

"Yeah, as long as he doesn't step outside." Frohike added.

 

"I was very careful. I'm pretty sure we weren't followed." Mulder said but no one was all that convinced.

 

"What do you want to do?" Mulder asked.

 

"I don't know. Krycek said he'd take care of it." Skinner began to pace.

 

"Holy fuck! Krycek's involved in this too? We might as well kiss our ass's goodbye." Langly said.

 

"Do you think he can?" Mulder asked Skinner and ignored Langly.

 

"He seems to think he can. And right now that's all we've got."

 

"Ok, listen up people." Byers announced. "We don't open that door for anybody! No deliveries, no pizza, not for Mother Teresa herself. That door stays locked until this mess is over with."

 

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement. For three solid days they paced the floor and waited. Mulder checked his phone repeatedly to make sure it was working but no word came from Krycek.

 

Just after dawn on the fourth day, they were standing around drinking coffee when someone knocked on the door. They all froze. Frohike turned on their security camera and saw Krycek standing there.

 

"Oh shit! It's Krycek!" Langly said. "I'm outta here." He went into the back storage room and hid.

 

Skinner was working at the locks trying to unfasten them all when Frohike stopped him.

 

"Wait a minute. Are you sure you can trust him? I mean – it's Krycek!"

 

"Yes, I trust him. Get this damn door open!" Skinner said and Byers un-did the last of he locks.

 

The door swung open and Krycek came in looking like he hadn't slept since they had last seen him.

 

"It's Ok. Everything's taken care of. You're safe now." He said as they closed the door behind him and locked it back up.

 

"Are you sure?" Mulder asked. "How did you find us?"

 

"What happened?" Skinner asked.

 

"I figured this was where you'd come. It's not like you have all that many friends, Mulder." And to Skinner, he said, "The situation has been … handled." His eyes blinked a few times and he went to his knees.

 

"Krycek!" Skinner called and grabbed him. As he lowered him to the floor, Krycek's jacket fell open and they all saw the blood at the same time. "Jesus!" Skinner said and picked him up and placed him on the couch.

 

"What's happening?" Langly couldn't stand not knowing and poked his head out around the doorway.

 

"He's out like a light." Frohike said. "And he's bleeding all over the place."

 

"Get some towels." Skinner ordered as he pulled the shirt up and saw that Krycek had wrapped a towel around his middle that was now soaked through with blood. Skinner opened it and saw a long gash in Krycek's side that had two pieces of tape across it. The tape wasn't helping much and the blood was oozing out of the wound. 

 

Skinner took the towel handed him and placed it over the wound and applied pressure. "Get Scully over here. Tell her to bring her bag."

 

Mulder got on the phone and made the call. It was thirty minutes before Scully arrived and Skinner sat where he was on the side of the couch holding the towel over the wound.

 

"What is it? What's wrong? Who's hurt?" Scully came through the door full of questions.

 

"It's Krycek," Mulder said.

 

"Krycek? Why not just call an ambulance then?" Scully said as she looked down at him.

 

"Knife wound, Scully. He needs stitches." Skinner said as he lifted the towel and showed her the wound.

 

"How long has he been unconscious?" Scully lifted up one of Krycek's eyelids and asked.

 

"Since about ten seconds before Mulder called you." Skinner said and returned pressure to the wound while Scully opened her bag and put her gloves on then he got up and she took over.

 

"I need more towels and some bottled water." In less than a minute they appeared at her side. She rolled up one towel and placed it half way under him at his side. Then uncapped the bottle and poured the water into the wound to clean out any debris from the fabric of his shirt. 

 

A loud moan escaped his lips and his eyes fluttered opened.

 

"Just relax, Krycek. I'll have you stitched up in a few minutes."

 

She pulled out a syringe and Krycek asked nervously, "What's that?"

 

"Novocain." and without further discussion she gave him several injections around the wound.

 

True to her word, she had him stitched up and bandaged in less than ten minutes. "You've lost a lot of blood so you're going to be weak for some time. You really need a transfusion."

 

"No, I'm fine. Thanks Scully." He tried to sit up and Skinner reached down and gave him a hand.

 

"I don't suppose any of you can tell me how he got that wound?" Scully looked around the room. "I didn't think so."

 

"Come on. Let's get out of here." Skinner said as he helped Krycek to his feet. And then to the others he said, "Scully, Mulder, guys; I owe you."

 

"He really should be in a hospital." Scully warned. "He's lost a lot of blood."

 

"I'll look after him." Skinner said as they walked to the doorway, Skinner supporting a stumbling Krycek all the way.

 

"Sir?" Mulder stopped them, looked at Krycek then back to Skinner, "Why?"

 

"Because he needs looking after and I don't see any other volunteers." It came out a bit more cynical than he actually felt but he couldn't tell them the real reason.

 

"So where are we going?" Krycek asked once they were in the car and on their way.

 

"My place. I've got two bedrooms, I can look after you there, and it's safe."

 

"No offense, Skinner, but your place is as easy to get into as any place else."

 

"But you said the threat was over. You said you handled it."

 

"I took out Bulldog and his two goons. You are safe from them but no telling who else could be after me and now you."

 

"Shit! Where do you suggest then?" Skinner asked exasperated. "You want to go back to the Lone Gunmen's place?"

 

"Oh God no!" 

 

"Where then?"

 

"Just drop me off at a bus stop somewhere. I can take care of myself."

 

"No you can't! Not right now. You're pale as a ghost which means you're weak. You can hardly walk. You can't be alone right now."

 

"Skinner, you've done enough."

 

"I'm not going to just dump you someplace."

 

Krycek leaned his head against the window and quit arguing. He was too weak to continue.

 

Skinner drove until he firmed up his idea then he pulled off the highway and into a Ford dealership parking lot. 

 

"What are we stopping for?" Krycek roused a bit.

 

"We need a new vehicle." 

 

"They will be able to trace it."

 

"You have a better idea?"

 

"Yeah. In my boot." He lifted his left foot up and tried to fiddle with the heel but was too weak. 

 

"What? What's in your boot?" Skinner asked.

 

"The heel – turn it." He held his boot up.

 

Skinner took hold of the heel and turned it. A small plastic baggie fell out and inside were several credit cards.

 

"What are these? Stolen?"

 

"No. They are all on a Swiss bank account – totally untraceable."

 

Skinner flipped through and pulled out an American Express card with some corporation name on it. On the back was a scribbled name with CEO after it. "Are these any good?"

 

"Uh huh. There's a company I.D. card too and a driver's license for me with that name."

 

"And these are untraceable? Are you sure?"

 

"Positive. Go on in, pick out what you want and then come get me. I'll go in and pay for it. You can have someone come pick up your car."

 

"Ok. Are you sure you'll be all right out here? It shouldn't take too long. I know exactly what I want."

 

"I'm fine – just tired. Go on." Krycek said and after taking a quick look around the parking lot, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

 

It took forty five minutes but Skinner finally came back out. He had found nothing in the new vehicles that he wanted and when he looked in the used car section, he found it – a four wheel drive pickup with a camper shell attached on the back. It was only two years old and in great condition and only had thirty thousand miles on it. 

 

He came back outside and got Krycek.

 

"I told the salesman that you had a hangover. Just follow my lead and we should be out of here in a minute."

 

"Whatever."

 

It was more like ten minutes but once Krycek showed his I.D. and credit card, it was all finished but to sign the documents. While he was doing that, Skinner put in a call to Mulder and asked him to make arrangements to pick up his car. He left his keys with the salesman to give to Mulder when he got there.

Moments later they were loading up in the pickup. 

 

"Why a pickup?" Krycek asked.

 

"It's four-wheel drive and it's what we need for what I have in mind. We've got a couple more stops to make then we can take off."

 

Krycek just stared at him for a moment then gave it up; too tired to pursue it further.

 

The next stop was Sears.

 

"Sears? What do you need here?"

 

"A ton of stuff. I'll be back as soon as I can but it's libel to take about an hour. Will you be all right that long?"

 

"Uh huh. You need me to come in and pay for stuff?"

 

"No. They've got an ATM inside. I'll draw out cash and pay for the goods that way."

 

"Use the credit card. Get as much cash as the machine will allow."

 

"All right. What about pin number?" 

 

"It's the second number in each grouping of numbers on the card."

 

"Ok. I'll be back as soon as I can. Rest now and see if you can get some sleep. It's pretty safe here, lots of cars around and right over there is Mall Security." He pointed over to a small tower set up in the parking lot.

 

"Go for it." Krycek said and settled back in his seat.

 

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Skinner came back out pushing a large shopping cart and pulling another. Krycek stared in wonder as Skinner began unloading things into the back of the truck. Some of the stuff he tied on top on the luggage rack. Then he got in and headed out again.

 

"I had no idea you were a shopaholic, Skinner." Krycek gave him a weak grin.

 

"One more stop and we're good to go." Skinner grinned back.

 

Next he pulled into a Wal-Mart parking lot. 

 

"Wal-Mart?" Krycek asked.

 

"Uh huh. First I've got to make some room in the back." Skinner got out and climbed into the back. He dug around back there for a while then came around to the passenger side door and opened it.

 

"Come on."

 

"Huh?" Krycek asked. "You need me to go in with you?"

 

"No. Come on." He helped Krycek out of the truck and took him around back to the door. He opened it and Krycek looked in and saw a blue air mattress inflated and set up with a sleeping bag opened up on it and even a pillow.

 

"Get in."

 

"That's for me?" Krycek was astonished. "You didn't have to do that."

 

"You can't make a long ride sitting up. You're side must be killing you."

 

"As a matter of fact, it hurts like hell but you still didn't need to do this."

 

"Well it's done so get in." Skinner helped him climb in the back and lie down. He shoved all the rest of the stuff as far to the other side as he could.

 

Krycek groaned as he laid down, one hand holding his side. 

 

"How's the temperature in here? You want one of these windows opened?"

 

"No. It's fine. This is great, thank you."

 

"Ok, good. I'll be back as soon as I can; thirty or forty minutes, tops."

 

"K." Krycek sighed and started to relax.

 

 

It seemed like just a moment or two later, Skinner was back. 

 

"It's just me." Skinner knocked on the door and opened it.

 

He then started shoving bags and bags of supplies in. He stopped long enough to open a bottle of water and a package of Tylenol and shook three out and handed them to Krycek.

 

Krycek gulped them down in amazement and stared in disbelief as Skinner continued to fill up the back of the truck and then pile even more goods into the passenger side of the cab.

 

"All set?" He asked Krycek in the back.

 

"Uh huh," came the sleepy answer.

 

"Ok. We're off."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

It was several hours later when Skinner pulled off the highway and the change in vibration woke Krycek up. He leaned up and asked, "We've left the highway. Did you see something?"

 

"No. We're fine. We're on a dirt road and back in here a ways we're going to turn off. There's a river around here if I can find it in the dark."

 

"Well just don't drive into it. I'm in no shape for a swim." Krycek said and lay back down.

 

"I won't." Skinner said as he pulled off the dirt road and headed back into the trees. Branches scraped the side of the truck and crunched under the tires. The ride became a lot rougher.

 

"You sure you know where you're going?" Krycek asked after they drove for quite a while.

 

"Uh huh. More or less." Skinner answered as he maneuvered around another sapling.

 

"It's the more or less that scares me." Krycek said.

 

"We're heading due north. If my calculations are right, the river should be approximately ten miles off the road. We're going in about eight or nine miles. We should be there shortly."

 

"Good." Krycek said as they went over another big bump and the truck tilted almost throwing him off his bed.

 

"This looks pretty good right here." Skinner stopped and got out. He came around back and opened the door. He rummaged through some bags. First thing he found was a saucer sized round light fixture. He stuck batteries in it, peeled off the backing and stuck it to the ceiling of the camper shell and turned it on. Next he pulled out a battery powered lantern, assembled it and turned it on. "I'll take a look around and be right back." He reached under a stack of bags and brought out an axe.

 

Krycek watched in wonder. A few minutes later he heard some hacking with the axe and Skinner coming back.

 

"This spot will do. You rest and I'll get camp set up." He climbed up on the side and untied the boxes that he had secured on the luggage rack and brought them down. He opened the first one and hauled out a big wad of canvas, some poles and an instruction book.

 

Forty five minutes later, after hauling all the supplies in, he came to the back door of the camper and wiping the sweat off his face with his jacket sleeve he said. "All right – I've got it set up. Come on. Let's get you out of there."

 

He climbed inside and helped Krycek to sit up. He did so with a groan. "I'll give you some more Tylenol as soon as we get you inside." That helped Krycek to move a little faster but not by much. He picked up Krycek's sleeping bag and pillow and carried them in too.

 

Krycek stood in the doorway, amazed. It was a large three room tent – a main room in the middle with two smaller rooms off to each side. The room off to the right, he had set up a port-a-potty, a table with a large bowl and a five gallon jug of water and a lantern hanging from the center support. In the middle room he had two four foot long tables set up across the back of the tent. One was stacked with canned goods and other groceries and the other had a five gallon water jug with a spigot at the bottom, a camp stove, and two lawn chairs sitting in front. A lantern hung from the center support there as well.

The other small room, off to the left, also had a lantern lighting it and had one air mattress over to the side. Skinner placed Krycek's sleeping bag and pillow down on it and helped Krycek to lie down.

 

He then went back out to the truck, turned the lights off, got the other air mattress out and locked it up. He went inside the tent and zipped the door closed. He placed the other air mattress in the small room across from Krycek's then opened out his sleeping bag and placed it and his pillow on top.

 

"This is amazing, Skinner. I never expected anything like this." Krycek was beyond exhausted. He could hardly move he was so weak and in pain.

 

"I'll get that Tylenol for you and then I'll get some dinner started."

 

"I'm not hungry. But I do need that Tylenol." Krycek said.

 

"You need to eat something." Skinner said from the other room as he pulled out another bottle of water from his stash of supplies under the table. "How about just some soup – do you think you could handle that?" He opened the bottle of water and handed Krycek the pills.

 

"I can try." Krycek said as he gulped down the pills with several swallows of water.

 

"Good. You're weak enough as it is. You can't get your strength back if you don't eat."

 

He went back out into the other room and heated up some chicken noodle soup. He brought it into Krycek and helped him to sit up.

 

"Skinner, why are you doing all this? None of this is necessary."

 

"I'm doing it for two reasons -- first because I want to and second because you need someone to help you out right now."

 

"But that's what I don't understand. Why do you want to help me? After all that I've done to you!"

 

"I'm beginning to think now that you had your reasons. I'm not saying that I agree with them, but you did have your reasons."

 

Krycek let it go for a bit as he sipped the steaming soup from his mug. "This is really good. Thank you."

 

"You're welcome. If you want anything else, just ask. I bought a week's supply."

 

"A week? Do you think it's safe to stay in one place that long?"

 

"This place is pretty remote. I'll check tomorrow and see if anyone else is around. I'll go back the way we came and see if I can tell if anyone else has traveled that dirt road after we did."

 

"You've been here before? You knew about this place?"

 

"Years ago I came up here fishing. That river has some tasty trout in it – pretty good sized too."

 

"And you know how to do all that stuff? I mean catching and cleaning them and all that?"

 

"Sure. Haven't you ever cleaned a fish?"

 

"Uh uh. I've cooked fish before but it came from the supermarket already cut up. All I had to do was bread it and bake it."

 

"Well we don't have an oven so if I catch any; we'll have to fry it."

 

"You got fishing gear too?"

 

"I did. And in those bags at the foot of our beds are two changes of clothes for each of us, plus shaving kits and toiletries."

 

"You didn't forget a thing."

 

"I tried not to." Skinner drank the remains of his soup and reached for Krycek's empty mug. He stood and carried them into the small room set up for the bathroom and rinsed them out in a large bowl he had placed there on the table for their sink. Then he brought the pan in and washed it out as well. He turned the lights off in the two other rooms and came back into the sleeping area.

Krycek was lying down. 

 

"Let me take a look at that bandage and see if it needs changing." Skinner asked. 

 

Krycek pushed the sleeping bag back and pulled up his shirt. "I think its fine. It's not bleeding any more."

 

"I think it looks Ok for now. We'll wait until it warms up tomorrow and get you cleaned up. We can change it then and get you into some clean clothes. That's going to make you feel better."

 

Krycek just shook his head and stared at him. "I don't know why you're doing all this but I want you to know that I'm grateful."

 

Skinner sat down on his bed and pulled his shoes off and got into bed. He lay there listening to the sounds of the woods for a while. He heard Krycek moving around a bit at first then settle in and went to sleep. Once he was assured that Krycek was sleeping he let himself relax and in moments he was sound asleep.

 

They awoke in the morning to bright sunlight and the sound of some small creature scampering over the top of their tent. They both sat upright at the sound and grinned when they realized what it was.

 

"Probably a squirrel," Skinner commented. "How's the side?"

 

"Don't ask." Krycek said as he held his side.

 

"I don't have to ask. I can tell by your face." Skinner stood up and pulled some clothes out of his new sports bag at the foot of his bed. "I'll be back in a minute then I'll help you into the bathroom." 

 

"Fine." Krycek nodded.

 

Skinner went into their small bathroom, did his business then, after a quick wash up, he changed his clothes – donning jeans, tee shirt, sweatshirt, and boots. He tossed his soiled clothing into the corner for later and came back and got Krycek.

 

While Krycek was in the bathroom, Skinner started a pot of coffee.

 

"Here, sit down." Skinner said and pulled out one of the lawn chairs as Krycek came stumbling out of the bathroom.

 

He sank into the chair with a groan and gratefully accepted the Tylenol that Skinner offered and gulped them down. 

 

Skinner poured them each a steaming cup of coffee then got out two frying pans and started breakfast. Out of the large ice chest, he pulled a package of sausage and a dozen eggs. He dumped the sausage in one pan and the entire dozen eggs into the other. In minutes he was piling two plates full and handed one to Krycek. 

 

"I seldom eat this good and never when I'm on the run." Krycek said around the first mouthful.

 

"You really need to eat to get yourself built back up. We've got eggs and meat that will last a couple of days then the ice will be gone and we'll be back to canned goods and oatmeal for a while."

 

"This is delicious." Krycek said as he devoured his food.

 

"Good." Skinner said as he poured them each another cup of coffee. "After breakfast, I'll help you clean up and change clothes. Then I'll go out and have a look around – see how far we are from the river. I could hear it last night while I was setting up camp so it's not too far."

 

While they were eating, Skinner put his biggest pot of water on to heat. With breakfast over with, Skinner first pulled out two little propane heaters and set them up. Then he got out Krycek's bag and started pulling clothing out. By then the water was warm enough and Skinner brought in the large bowl from the bathroom filled with fresh water and set about cleaning Krycek up. 

 

First the leather jacket came off, then the shirt and undershirt. Krycek was stiff and sore and stifled groans with every movement. His back and chest and both shoulders had large bruises. It was obvious he had been in a vicious fight. 

 

Skinner dipped the washrag into the warm water and soaped it up and started on Krycek's back. "Can we take this thing off?" Skinner tugged on the straps to Krycek's prosthesis.

 

"I'd rather not. It's waterproof – don't worry about it."

 

"It's not like I've never seen amputees before, Krycek. I've done a lot of volunteer work at veteran's hospitals. Aren't you supposed to take it off for a couple of hours every day?"

 

"I heard that but I never did it."

 

"You'd be a lot more comfortable if you did."

 

"In my business I can't afford to get comfortable."

 

"I thought you were out of the business now."

 

"That's what I was trying to do when you interrupted me with your little fairy tale about Saint Peter."

 

"That was no fairy tale, Krycek. It really happened."

 

"Well I'm sure something happened to you, Skinner, or you'd be the one I'd be running from instead of the one helping me."

 

"Things change. People change." Skinner said as he worked his way around and was now soaping up Krycek's chest, stomach and arm.

 

"You really think people can change?"

 

"I know I've changed since my accident. Maybe sometimes people just need to be hit over the head to make them realize they need to make changes in their lives."

 

"Or maybe sometimes people just no longer care."

 

"Then it's up to someone else to make them learn to care again." Skinner said as he rinsed Krycek off then added, "Can you stand up now? I'd like to get a look at that wound."

 

Krycek stood up, holding on the chair for support while Skinner peeled the bandage off.

 

"It looks pretty good." Skinner said as he opened a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide and splashed some over the wound. He dabbed it dry, sprayed on some antiseptic and re-bandaged it.

 

He pulled a tee shirt out of the plastic wrapping it was in and slipped it over Krycek's head then a sweat shirt on top.

 

"Oh, that feels good." Krycek pulled the sweat shirt down into place.

 

"We need to get you back into bed now so I can clean the rest of you." Skinner said as he helped Krycek back into the bedroom area. 

 

"I can do the rest, Skinner."

 

"No you can't. You're too weak, you can barely walk. Trust me, Krycek, you've got nothing that I haven't already seen and in a lot worse condition than you are."

 

"No one has bathed my since I was a baby."

 

"Well, it's time then." Skinner said as he helped Krycek lie down and he reached for his jeans. 

 

Krycek grabbed his hand and stopped him. "You don't have to do this."

 

"I thought we were passed that. You need it done and I'm doing it. Period!" Skinner wrestled his hand free and undid Krycek's jeans and pulled them down and off. He did the same with the underwear and socks and tossed them into a pile. He then went back into the outer room and brought in the water, soap and towel and got busy.

 

In minutes he had Krycek's bruised body washed and into clean underwear, sweat pants, warm socks, back in bed and covered up.

 

"There, now tell me you don't feel better!" Skinner challenged.

 

"I do feel better." Krycek said with an exhausted grin. "I can see it's useless to argue with you when you have your mind set on something."

 

"It is! Now I've got work to do. I'm going to take our clothes down to the river and wash them out. I'll string a line up in the bathroom area. It'll probably take a couple days for them to dry inside but I think it's safer than hanging them outside where they might be seen."

 

Krycek shook his head in agreement. 

 

"Oh here." Skinner tossed a plastic bag over to Krycek. "I picked up some magazines and some paperbacks. Is there anything else I can get for you before I take off?"

 

"I need my gun and maybe a bottle of water."

 

"I'll get it." Skinner said and went into the other area and brought back Krycek's gun that he had taken off him and grabbed up another bottle of water. "Anything else?"

 

"That about covers it. I've got everything here but cable TV and I guess I can do without that for a while."

 

Skinner grinned at the weak joke and gathered up Krycek's pile of dirty clothes and went out into the other room. Before he left, he washed their breakfast dishes and stacked them back on the table.

 

The stream was a ten minute walk from their camp. Skinner took his boots and socks off, rolled up his jeans and waded out into the stream a bit. The water was icy cold but crystal clear out in the middle and one by one he rinsed out their clothes and replaced them in the plastic bags he brought them in. When he was finished he wiped his feet dry with a towel, put his socks and boots back on, rinsed the towel out and headed back to camp.

 

Krycek heard him coming and grabbed up his gun. Skinner suspected he might be a bit edgy so he called out. "I'm back. It's just me."

 

Krycek put his gun back under the covers and took up his book again.

 

"Everything all right?" Skinner asked sticking his head into the sleeping area.

 

"Uh huh." Krycek answered, not looking up from his book.

 

Skinner got on with his business and strung a line of rope across the small bathroom area and hung their clothes across it to dry. He unzipped the windows in the small room so there would be some cross air circulation.

 

Next he picked up his axe and went outside. He started back into the woods and chopped down several larger branches off trees and dragged them back to the campsite and hefted them up over the top of the tent, tying them into place. It took him several trips but he managed to completely cover the top and sides of their tent and the pickup. Now the tent and truck were invisible even from the air.

 

When he finished and came back inside, Krycek was sleeping with the book opened across his chest. Skinner got a new pot of coffee going, opened a bottle of water for himself and sat down and relaxed. He couldn't help but think that if none of this had happened he'd be sitting behind his desk going over a stack of reports. He thought about their situation and wondered just how much danger they were in, how much time they had before they would have to leave. 

 

He felt pretty secure there. They had fresh water, he was sure there was fish in the stream, and as long as the weather held out, they should be comfortable enough. He could always make a quick run back into town if they need more groceries. They were about thirty minutes drive from the nearest town so he could make it there and back in little over an hour and stock up if they decided to stay on longer.

 

He pulled the long narrow box out from under the table and opened it. He was glad he thought of the hunting rifle and took it out of the box and checked it out. He heard a bit of noise from the next room and went in to check on Krycek. He was greeted with a gun in his face.

 

"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I heard what I thought was a gun being cocked." Krycek apologized.

 

"You did." Skinner held up his new rifle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

 

"It's Ok. I just didn't know you had a rifle."

 

"I picked it up along with all the camping gear. I used my F.B.I. credentials so I didn't have to worry about the waiting period. I figured the last thing anyone after us would do, would be to take the time to check out any fire arms I might have purchased."

 

"I'm sure you're right about that." Krycek said and held his side.

 

"Did you pull a stitch?" Skinner asked.

 

"No, I don't think so. I just need to get up and move around a little."

 

"Good. That's a sign you're getting your strength back. How about a short walk around outside? I can show you how well covered our camp site is and if you feel up to it, we can take a walk to the river. It's about ten minutes from here."

 

"I think I could handle that."

 

Skinner drug out Krycek's boots and helped him into them then helped him into a thick hunting jacket and they headed out. Just outside the tent, Krycek stopped and had a good look around. "This looks great. I didn't even see the truck at first. You did a good job."

 

"I took only low branches off the bigger trees and only one branch off per tree so it wouldn't be noticeable if someone was looking down from above."

 

"Good idea." Krycek said and they headed in the direction of the running water they could clearly hear in the distance.

 

"It's an easy walk and there are some boulders at the waters edge where you can sit and rest up before we head back. I think we're pretty safe here."

 

"This is really nice." Krycek said as they walked out into the clearing at the water's edge.

 

"Is this where you camped before?"

 

"No. I didn't camp here before. I just went fishing. But I think I was more over in that direction farther to the east."

 

"Stream looks clear."

 

"It does. I bought some purification tablets we can use when we run out of our bottled water and the water I drew from that gas station where I stopped to fill up our water jugs."

 

"You really did think of everything; didn't you?" Krycek grinned as he took a seat on a boulder.

 

"I hope so." Skinner said hoping it was true. "You know, when I was out here earlier, I saw some rabbit tracks over in that direction. You ever have rabbit stew?"

 

"You're kidding, right? You eat bunny rabbits?"

 

"These are not bunny rabbits and they make a great stew. So does squirrel if you know how to season them properly."

 

"And I suppose you do and I suppose in that mountain of groceries you bought you have just the right seasonings?" Krycek grinned.

 

"I do." Skinner said proudly. "We won't starve out here. That's for sure. I've got some steaks and some chicken in the ice chest and another package of sausages. That will last us today and tomorrow. After that, I'll try out my new fishing gear and maybe set out a few small critter traps."

 

"And you bought some of those too?"

 

"No. They're easy to make. I guess you never were a boy scout."

 

Krycek laughed. "No – I was too busy learning urban survival to worry about surviving in the woods."

 

Skinner grinned. "There's probably some larger game in these woods too. I haven't walked too far down the bank but if we did, I'll bet we'd see where some other animals came down for a drink."

 

"You've gone to an awful lot of trouble for me. Saint Peter would be proud of you." Krycek teased.

 

"I didn't do it for Saint Peter. I did it because I wanted to and because you needed, once in your life, for someone to give you a helping hand without asking for anything in return." Skinner answered seriously.

 

"You really think you saw Saint Peter – had a conversation with him about me?" 

 

"I do. It's already changed the way I think about you. I always considered you some kind of … rabid animal. I never really stopped to think 'why' you left the Bureau and joined Spender's group. I guess it never occurred to me that you might have been tricked or more or less forced into it."

 

"I wasn't forced. I went into it with my eyes wide open. It just turned out that most of what the old man told me was a pack of lies. And for some stupid reason, I felt like I was worthy of being singled out for these special missions he was sending me on. I never questioned them. I just did what I was told. Hell, Skinner. I thought he held some big position there at the Bureau or maybe with the C.I.A. – some place of power in the government. He was always there around the Hoover. I saw him nearly every day."

 

"I know. I have no idea how he managed to walk in and out of there so freely but as far as I know, he has no government status at all."

 

"Had." Krycek corrected him.

 

"Had." Skinner agreed. "For what it's worth – I'm glad he's gone."

 

"I should have done it years ago. I just kept hoping …"

 

"Hoping that we would somehow manage to trap him and take him out for you?"

 

"Something like that. Then after a while, it became obvious that if he went down that way, I'd go down with him."

 

"You could have turned State's evidence against him. We could have protected you."

 

"I was never offered that opportunity. Besides, you might have been able to protect me through the trial and then afterwards what? I'd be given a new identity and ended up a shoe salesman out west somewhere? No thanks."

 

"So you're going to take the coward's way out and kill yourself?"

 

Krycek didn't like that and he had killed people for lesser insults but he merely stood and headed back towards camp.

 

They didn't speak until they reached camp then Skinner said as he held the door flap open for Krycek to enter, "If you take yourself out, then the old bastard wins. Don't you see that?"

 

Krycek said nothing and went inside and lay down on his bed. 

CHAPTER SIX

 

Skinner puttered around in the kitchen area for a while then popped his head into the sleeping area. "Lunch is ready. Do you want to eat in here or out there?"

 

"I'll come out." Krycek said and tossed his magazine aside.

 

Skinner had made ham and cheese sandwiches and vegetable soup. They both ate ravenously. Skinner poured them each a second cup of coffee and offered Krycek some more Tylenol. 

 

"How's the pain? Any better?"

 

"It's there. It won't get any better until I get these damn stitches out."

 

"They've got to stay in for at least ten days. Otherwise that wound could open up again and you'd be right back where you started. Infection could set in and you'd be in serious trouble before you knew what was happening."

 

"I know, I know. Jeeze, you're a pain in the ass, Skinner." Krycek swallowed his pills and went back in to his bed.

 

Skinner cleaned up the lunch mess then lay down for a nap himself. He awoke a few hours later to hear someone rustling around in the other room. A glance across to Krycek's sleeping area showed him missing and Skinner heard the port-a-potty flush and he relaxed. He reached over and picked up the bag with the books inside and selected one and started reading.

 

The rest of the afternoon passed silently as both men kept their noses in their books. Skinner was half way through his book before he decided he was hungry again.

 

"Are you about ready to eat?" He asked.

 

"I could eat." Krycek agreed.

 

Twenty minutes later he called Krycek for dinner. They ate their steaks, Ranch Style beans and salad and right after Krycek went to bed. Skinner cleaned things up and lay back down himself and read until he was sleepy.

 

Things went on pretty much the same for the next several days. They ate, read, and slept. Skinner went out every day and scouted the perimeter of their camp site to make sure there was no activity. He went out as far back as the main road and back again. 

 

Skinner fished and brought in some nice trout which he battered and fried up. Two days in a row it rained solid and Krycek was getting antsy. He was stronger now and his wound was healing nicely. 

 

"Well, I've read everything I brought and I think you have too so why don't we sit and talk?" Skinner pulled out one of the lawn chairs and sat after cleaning up with a fresh change of clothes.

 

"What's to talk about?" Krycek said standing in the doorway watching the rain.

 

"We need to make some plans, decide where we want to go from here."

 

"What do you mean?" Krycek turned to look at him.

 

"How long do you think we'll have to hide out? How much danger do you think we're really in and what can we do about it to get out lives back to normal?"

 

"Normal? What's normal?" Krycek scoffed.

 

"You know what I mean. You certainly don't plan on us hiding out indefinitely."

 

"You can go back any time you want. Just watch your back because they know that you helped me."

 

"I'm not going back until we're both safe."

 

"Ha ha ha." Krycek gave a sarcastic chuckle. "There is no place safe. Don't you know that by now?"

 

"We seem to be pretty safe right here."

 

"Yeah, but for how long? We can't stay out here forever and they know that. They'll just wait until we've had our fill of hiding and come back."

 

"Then we might as well go back right now and face them."

 

"NO! I don't want you any deeper in this than you already are. You've already done enough."

 

"Apparently not, if our lives are still in danger."

 

"Skinner … it really doesn't matter any more." Krycek said as he ran his hand through his hair and turned back to watch the rain.

 

"So you're just going to give up – let them finish what you started?"

 

"I didn't say that."

 

"Then what are you saying?"

 

"You may as well know I've got something they want – something they'd be willing to kill both of us to get."

 

"And what would that be?" Skinner got up and walked over to the door way.

 

"Those credit cards. They were the old man's."

 

"So all this is about a couple of credit cards?"

 

"Totally untraceable credit cards, to a Swiss bank account holding all the accumulated funds of the Consortium over the last fifty years."

 

"I see. The same credit cards that we've been using?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And I take it we're not talking about a small amount?"

 

"Even I don't know the exact amount. Let's just say that the holder of these cards would be one of the richest men in the world."

 

"That's a lot of money!" Skinner whistled. "And it's all dirty?"

 

"No. A great deal of it was invested in legitimate businesses that have helped to increase the bottom line immeasurably."

 

"And what exactly is your plan for all that money?"

 

"Huh? Oh you mean … I just figured to give it all to charity."

 

"Well, that's a noble thought."

 

"I wasn't trying to be noble, Skinner. I just didn't want them to get it. With that kind of money they could get a foot hold and build back up again. I intend to see that, that doesn't happen."

 

"There are no other cards? No one else has access to those accounts?"

 

"No. These cards are the only ones."

 

"And if you'd killed yourself back there, how would anyone know to look in your boot?"

 

"I sent you a letter – Special Delivery."

 

"And what does this letter say?"

 

"Just that I had taken out the old man and that there was a bunch of money from the group and where the cards were. I asked that you give it to some charity."

 

Skinner didn't know what to say to that so he just stood there, hands on hips.

 

The rain finally stopped and Krycek went out for a walk. Skinner grabbed his jacket and took off to have a look around as he hadn't been out the last two days.

 

The next day was bright and sunny and after looking around the place Skinner took two empty water cans and headed for the stream. He walked back carrying the two five gallon water jugs he had just refilled. He came into the tent to see Krycek with his shirt off and trying to remove his stitches.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"I'm taking these goddamned stitches out!"

 

"You can't do that. It hasn't been ten days yet." Skinner sat the water jugs down and came over to Krycek.

 

"I don't care! They are coming out now! I can't stand it any longer. They hurt more than my side does. I want them out!" He tried to slip his knife in under a stitch.

 

"Ok. Ok – just a minute. Let me do it." Skinner turned him around so he could take a closer look at the wound. "It looks like it's closed up all right and I don't see any signs of infection."

 

"Just get them out!"

 

"We still have to be careful. Put your knife away." He went into the bathroom area and brought out the large bowl they had been using for a basin and set it on the table. He dug around in the first aid kit and pulled out a small pair of scissors and took the plastic wrap off, then uncapped a bottle of alcohol. He held the scissors over the basin and poured alcohol over them and his hands. Then he held a wad of cotton against the open bottle and tipped it over and back again and dabbed the alcohol all around the wound.

 

"Jesus, Skinner, will you just get on with it!" Krycek was surly and impatient.

 

"You don't want to risk an infection now." Skinner insisted as he picked up the scissors and started clipping each stitch. Next he picked up the tweezers, sterilized them and began pulling out the stitches one by one and dropping them into the basin. Once he had them all out, Krycek started to pull away.

 

"Just a minute!" Skinner stopped him. "You need to keep it bandaged at least for another day or so. He dabbed at the wound again and made sure each little stitch hole had alcohol squeezed into it.

 

"Christ!" Krycek complained, disgusted with the entire procedure.

 

Skinner pulled out and un-wrapped two four-by-four gauze bandages to cover the wound which was approximately six inches long. He taped them into place and Krycek wrenched himself away and pulled his shirt back into place.

 

"Why do you have to be so goddamned nice!" He snarled at Skinner.

 

"What's this all about, Krycek?" Skinner asked as he cleaned up the mess and put the first aid kit back together.

 

"I just … I'm ready to get out of here. I can't stand this … this stupid tent out in the middle of nowhere. I want to leave."

 

"It's only been seven days. Do you think it's safe?"

 

"Safe? Safe?" Krycek demanded as he paced the small area. "Haven't you learned by now that there is no place 'safe' in this world?"

 

"What is it, Krycek? What's got you so upset? Did you hear something out in the woods while I was gone?"

 

"Who could hear anything way out here in the middle of nowhere? There's nothing out there, Skinner, nothing!"

 

"Is it the food? I can drive into town and stock up and be back in a couple of hours."

 

"It's not the fucking food, Skinner! Shit, shit, shit!" Krycek paced angrily.

 

"Well what is it then? Come on, Krycek, spit it out!" Skinner demanded.

 

"It's THIS!" He waved his arm around the tent. "And YOU! I never expected any of this! I never asked for any of this!"

 

"You're angry because I've tried to make us comfortable?" Skinner couldn't quite get it together.

 

"All right. All right. Listen. It was all a lie."

 

"A lie? What was? You mean you didn't really get the Bulldog?"

 

"Oh I got him all right and he's the one who got me. His goons went down easy but that bastard hung on until I had his face smashed to a bloody pulp."

 

"Then what was the lie?"

 

Krycek stopped his pacing and faced Skinner. "All the rest. We're not in any danger. There's no one left. There's no one trying to resurrect the group, no one looking for me."

 

Skinner stared at him dumbfounded. After a few moments to let the words sink in he asked, "Why? Why then did we go through all this?"

 

"I was in pain, I was weak. I needed someone to look after me." Krycek looked down at his stocking feet and for the first time in many years he felt ashamed.

 

"You mean there's no one after us, and the only reason we're out here in the middle of no where is because you needed someone to help you? Why didn't you just ask?"

 

"I couldn't."

 

"Why the hell not?"

 

"I just couldn't, that's all. Not from you."

 

"Why not from me?"

 

"Because of your crazy notion about saving my soul! I figured if I didn't make it, you'd have one more reason to hate me and yourself." He paced some more then added. "Shit, Skinner! I had no idea you'd go and do all this! I figured we'd just go to some motel some where and you could, I don't know, get me food and stuff for a few days until I got my strength back."

 

"Hate myself?" Skinner stood in the middle of the floor, hands on hips while Krycek paced restlessly. "You think I hate myself?"

 

"Why do you think you're doing all this? Why do you think you've strived so hard to be Mr. Perfect?"

 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

 

"You were brought up in the perfect family, had the perfect life until you joined the Marines and went into combat. Every since then, you've been driven to be perfect; the perfect patient, the perfect student, the perfect agent and the perfect AD. It's like you're trying to make up reasons why you were allowed to survive when so many others didn't!"

 

"You are out of your fucking mind, Krycek!"

 

"Am I? Or are you trying to make up for the things you did over there, the people you killed, the drugs you did, the whores you screwed? None of that fit in with your perfect image, did it?"

 

"What gives you the right to … analyze me and my motives?" Skinner demanded.

 

"What gives you the right to analyze me and mine?" Krycek countered.

 

"All right, all right. Let's just settle down here and discuss things rationally."

 

"There's nothing to discuss. I want to leave here. I want to get back to the city."

 

"All right. If that's what you want."

 

"It is."

 

Skinner set about dismantling the camp then. He loaded up all the equipment, then began taking down the tent. Krycek wandered around staying out of the way until the last bits and pieces were stored in the pickup then climbed into the passenger side.

 

Skinner pulled the rest of the branches off the truck, got in and started it up. He managed to get it turned around and headed back towards the road. They were back on the highway and drove for about an hour before Skinner finally spoke.

 

"I knew you needed someone to look after you and I would have helped. You didn't need to make up any lies."

 

"It's done now, Skinner – forget it."

 

Skinner waited a few minutes before answering. "What else did you lie about?"

 

"What does it matter? I lie. It's what I do."

 

"Well, you don't have to do it with me!"

 

"Oh that's right. You're out to save my soul. I keep forgetting." Krycek sneered sarcastically.

 

"Krycek, this is serious. I know what I saw and heard and I know it wasn't some sort of drug induced dream."

 

"You actually think you saw and spoke with Saint Peter and got a glimpse into Heaven and Hell?"

 

"I did!" 

 

"Then you're the one who needs help, Skinner, not me!"

 

"Krycek, just think about it for a minute; what if I'm right? Do you dare take that chance?"

 

"I take chances every day of my life. Why should this one be any different?"

 

"Because this one concerns the damnation of your soul throughout all eternity!"

 

Krycek let out a sarcastic laugh. "You sound like Billy Graham."

 

Skinner pulled the truck off the road into a rest area and turned to Krycek. "Krycek … Alex – It really happened. I swear to you, it did! I SAW St. Peter and I SAW Satan."

 

"All right, I believe that you THINK you saw all that. I just don't see how you expect to … to 'redeem' me, or whatever the hell you call it."

 

"Well, this charity thing for one. You said you wanted all the money in that account to go to a charity. I think that's a great idea but I don't think you should give all that money to just one charity like that. I think you should take some time and do some research on the subject. There are a lot of charities that collect money and spend seventy, eighty percent of the money on organizational expenses and very little of the money actually funnels down to where it's needed."

 

"Don't they have people, or organizations that do that?"

 

"Yeah, they do; people who are living in million dollar homes, driving Cadillacs and wearing Rolex watches – all being paid for by these 'charities'. If there's as much money in that account as you say there is and you really want it to get where it's most needed, then do it the right way. Take the time to investigate and make sure before it gets handed over to one group who might just be so grateful that all the top executives take a vacation to Paris in celebration of their windfall."

 

"I thought you could pick out one that was pretty reliable."

 

" We've caught more than a few scam artists who have wormed their way into the hierarchy of reputable charities and managed to drain off millions."

 

"I guess there's that kind in every group."

 

"Yes, but you have the knowledge and the where-with-all to do some digging and find out these things that the normal smuck handing over his hard earned dollars doesn't. And you're not talking about handing over dollars; you're talking about handing over millions."

 

"I guess I could do a little research."

 

"Of course you could. I could help. I was planning on doing the exact same thing, only on a much smaller scale, when I retire. My wife left me a large estate. I plan on donating it to charity but not before I do some considerable research."

 

"And you think this would buy me that golden ticket into Heaven?"

 

"Hell, I don't know. I just know you've got to try. You've got to figure out some way to turn your life around and take advantage of this second chance you've been given."

 

"Is that the way you see all this? Like a second chance for me?"

 

"Yes! I do. Find yourself a nice place to live. Get out of that warehouse district slum and into a nice place. Just a change of scenery will make a world of difference in how you feel about yourself."

 

"Please, no more analyzing!" Krycek scoffed.

 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I know when Sharon left me and then died, I felt like hell for months. It didn't get any better until I moved. I was living in some shitty little apartment I hated so much I never even unpacked. I finally got out of there and into a decent place in an upscale neighborhood and it made a world of difference in how I felt about myself and about my life."

 

Krycek sighed and looked out the window.

 

"Some of that money must be yours. Use it. Find a new place to live, buy yourself a new wardrobe, a car. Start living a life you could be proud of."

 

"Doing charity work you mean."

 

"Why not? Charity work, volunteer work – there is always a great need for volunteers."

 

"And what if I run into someone I know?"

 

"Hell, I don't have all the answers. Just … try not to kill anyone else." He said half joking.

 

"You think I kill because I enjoyed it?" 

 

"I have no idea and it really doesn't matter as long as you stop it."

 

"You've killed people."

 

"Yes, I have but that was different. It was war, in the line of duty." Skinner defended himself.

 

"I see. So it makes a difference if it's hundreds or thousands of people are doing the killing in some foreign country or if it's one person alone in this country trying to survive and keep from being killed?"

 

"Legally, yes, there is a difference."

 

"I'm talking to a lawyer now?"

 

"I'm just trying to explain the legalities of the different situations."

 

"Do you think it makes any difference in the way you feel about killing and the way I feel about killing?"

 

"I wouldn't know that."

 

"There is no difference. You hated what you did over there and what you have to do here sometimes in the line of duty. It sickened you. That's why you make up for it by being perfect. Well this might surprise you, but I hate it too. It sickens me too. The only difference is that I don't have a way to make up for it."

 

"Yes you do – just what we were talking about here. Give back to society in some way. And just turning over all of the Consortium's money in one lump sum to some charity won't get it. It has to be something that you give of yourself – your time, your care, your consul – something!"

 

"So you think reading books to some kid in a hospital will turn my life around?"

 

"No I don't. That's up to you. You've got to want to do it. You've got to believe you can do it. Then you've got to go out and actually do it. Once you volunteer even one time, you will see how great the need is. If reading to children doesn't appeal to you, how about volunteering at a Veteran's hospital? Your help there would be invaluable speaking with other amputees. Or if you don't want to work with people, volunteer at the Humane Society and work with animals. They are always under-funded and under-staffed."

 

"I do like animals. I never thought about that."

 

"Well there you go. There is so much out there, Alex, so much need in so many places. And you need something that will challenge you, keep you interested and occupied. Killing yourself would be such a waste when there is so much need."

 

"I guess I could check into a few things. I do like the idea of the Humane Society. I just figured it was filled up with a bunch of rich old ladies who had nothing better to do with their time."

 

"I'm sure there are some like that working there – good for them. They saw a need and stepped in to fill it. If you were there to take over some of the duties; that might just free them up to organize another debutante ball or something."

 

"Or get some more of that blue tint put in their hair." Krycek added with a grin.

 

"That's right! You know how they love that 'natural' look." Skinner grinned back.

 

"Well let's get going then. I can see I've got a lot of work ahead of me."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

Skinner pulled the truck back out on the highway and drove with a lighter heart. Maybe, just maybe, he might have gotten through to Krycek.

 

Several hours later Skinner pulled into his underground parking area at the Viva Towers. He turned the ignition off and handed Krycek the keys.

 

"I'd really like to help you with this, Alex. I want this to work."

 

"You've already helped more than you'll ever know."

 

"Look, it's late. Why don't you spend the night here? I've got two bedrooms and plenty of room. You cold stay here until you found a new place."

 

"Still trying to keep an eye on me?" Krycek laughed.

 

"No … yes … no, not really. It just makes more sense. I hate to think of you going back to that place. Does it even have hot water for a shower?"

 

"Sometimes it does."

 

"Well I've got plenty of hot water. You can get cleaned up, we can wash your clothes and you can get a fresh start in the morning. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, tomorrow is Saturday. I could help you find an apartment, help you move."

 

"I don't have all that much to move."

 

"I could still help. I had a moving company move me and it wasn't the best experience. They charged a fortune and I didn't like strangers going through all my stuff and knowing about everything that I had. It was … unsettling."

 

Krycek sat and stared at him. Would he ever know all there was to know about this man?

 

"Come on. I've got some steaks in the freezer. I can thaw them out in no time and throw some other stuff together to go with it. You've got to be hungry."

 

"I could eat." Krycek gave a slow grin. "You really want me to stay with you?"

 

"Sure. Why not? We can get on the internet and check around for apartments and first thing in the morning we can go check them out." He climbed out of the truck and Krycek followed. They grabbed their bags from the back of the truck and headed for the elevator.

 

"I'm not particularly fond of high-rises." Krycek said as they entered the elevator. 

 

"Neither am I. This place is just what happened to be available when I was looking and it was furnished. I was pretty busy at the time and didn't want to take the time to shop."

 

"You think I could find a place furnished?"

 

"It's possible. We won't know that until we see what's available." Skinner unlocked his door and they went inside.

 

"The one thing I don't understand, Skinner, is why you don't hate me for lying about people being after us."

 

Skinner tossed his keys on his desk and peeled off his coat. "You know, I hated you for so long for so many things, that one more little lie because you needed help, isn't that big a deal. I can understand why you did it." He went into the kitchen, took the steaks out of the freezer and placed them into the microwave and set the timer. Walking back into the living room he said. "I'll flip you to see who gets the shower first."

 

"No. You go ahead. You've got dinner to cook." Krycek said and followed him up the stairs. 

 

Skinner showed him into the spare bedroom, pulled out a fresh set of linens and made the bed up. Krycek helped when he could but he didn't do a whole lot of bending or pulling. Once the pillows had clean covers on, Skinner fluffed them up and tossed them on the bed.

 

"It's all yours. I'll be out of the shower in five minutes, ten tops."

 

"Thanks. Take your time." Krycek sat on the edge of the bed and wondered at his new surroundings. The room seemed incredibly large and lonely after the small tent room they had shared. He had a feeling he was not going to sleep nearly as well tonight without the quiet rumble of Skinner's light snoring just a few feet away. With a sigh, he drew out a clean set of clothes from his bag and grinned at the thought of Skinner washing them out in the river. He held them to his face and inhaled the river water scent. He thought he had never smelled anything quite so wonderful.

 

"Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes." Skinner called to him through the open doorway and headed down stairs. 

 

Krycek took a long time in the shower. Standing there and letting the warm water wash down over his body. He soaped up and for the first time in a long time he felt himself aroused. He was in Skinner's apartment naked, in his shower, and Skinner was cooking him another dinner after taking care of him for a week. There was just something about Skinner; something that he couldn't quite identify. He gave himself a good squeeze, rinsed off and got out. He dressed after re-bandaging himself and hurried down stairs.

 

"There you are. Did you put on a new bandage?"

 

"I did. And I used that spray stuff too."

 

"Good! There's no need to risk infection at this stage of the game." Skinner was standing at his small bar and offered Krycek a drink.

 

"No thanks. I'm not all that much of a drinker."

 

"Dinner should be ready in about five minutes."

 

"It smells delicious." Krycek said, a little awkward with himself after his thoughts in the shower.

 

"There's a butcher over on Clarington Place just off Wellington where I get all my steaks. He always does right by me. I've never gotten a bad one there."

 

"I know the area. A lot of nice up-scale restaurants in that area."

 

"Yeah. That's probably what keeps him going. His prices are high but he carries only top quality cuts." They heard a ding out in the kitchen. "That's it," he grinned and the two of them headed into the kitchen. 

 

Skinner had the table all set and Krycek took a seat. He pulled the steaks out from under the broiler and placed one on each of their plates. He opened the bottom oven and pulled out a pan of dinner rolls that he dumped into a towel lined bowl and placed it on the table beside the bowl of steaming corn on the cob.

 

"You really do enjoy all this cooking shit; don't you?" Krycek said as he placed his napkin into his lap.

 

"I love it!" Skinner said as he filled their wine glasses and placed them next to their water glasses.

 

"I can tell." Krycek said as he sipped his water.

 

"There's nothing like a well cooked meal. It's one of the greatest pleasures in life."

 

"Said by a man who lives alone. Talk about a waste!" Krycek grinned as he placed the first bite of steak into is mouth.

 

Skinner grinned at him around a mouth full of steak. "A man alone has got to have something to do. He can't read all the time."

 

"You could always go out and find some company." 

 

"I could, I suppose. But I've never had very much luck in that department."

 

"Maybe you've been looking in the wrong department?"

 

Skinner sipped his wine and eyed Krycek. Was he baiting him or flirting with him? He couldn't tell but the banter intrigued him.

 

"What about you? From what you've told me of your life, you've been alone most of it."

 

"All of it. There has never been anybody – at least no one that I ever lived with, or cared enough about to live with."

 

"That's too bad." Skinner sympathized.

 

"It's not like I would have wanted to share what was happening in my life with anyone I really cared about anyway."

 

"It must have been very lonely."

 

"I've been alone all my life. I'm used to it."

 

"Sometimes I like it." Skinner said, "But other times, like now, I really enjoy the company."

 

Krycek felt the heat rise behind his ears and thought for sure his cheeks reddened. "Any port in a storm, I guess." He said and got back to work on his steak.

 

"It's not that way at all, Alex." Skinner noticed he had called him by his first name and it sort of baffled him. "I enjoy your company."

 

Krycek looked up at him, shock evident on his face.

 

"I know. That's the last thing either of us ever thought we'd hear out of me, but it's true." Skinner added.

 

"Why? I mean … I'm nothing." 

 

"On the contrary – now that I know more about you, I find your story fascinating. It's a miracle you ever made it through all the things that have happened to you. You should write a book about your life."

 

Krycek chuckled at that. "And who would want to read a book about an ex-assassin?"

 

"I would. There are many reasons why people turn out the way that they do. It's always interesting to see the circumstances they were faced with and try figure out why they made the decisions that they did."

 

Krycek sipped his wine and nodded his head. "I suppose that's true. There never usually is just one thing that suddenly turns a person bad. It's usually a series of circumstances that they saw no other way around than the way they took."

 

"That's a very good explanation. You might actually give some thought to writing. I'm sure you could come up with some hair-raising stories."

 

"I'm sue I could. But the last thing I need to be thinking about right now is writing. How would that serve society?"

 

"There are many different ways to serve society, Alex." He did it again, called him by his first name. It just kept slipping out. "It doesn't all have to be in the same way. There's nothing wrong with a little entertainment – just a little something to think about when you're not doing charity work."

 

Krycek snorted and took a drink of water. "It looks like you've got my life all planned out for me – investigating charities, doing volunteer work, working at the Humane Society and in my spare time, writing novels."

 

"I'm not planning your life out for you. I'm just trying to show you some options available to you. You don't have to do any of them if you don't want to. You can find some place, sit back and watch TV and play video games if that's what you prefer."

 

"It's not. Actually, I like all the suggestions you've made. The difficulty is going to be choosing which one I really want to do."

 

"There's no reason why you can't try them all. And I want to hear about each one. Please, I mean it. I want to know what you decide on; I want to know how it works out for you."

 

"This is all for the benefit of St. Peter?" Krycek teased as he started in on his second ear of corn.

 

"No. I want you to do something that you'll be proud of. I don't care what it is as long as it's something that you enjoy and will make you feel good about yourself afterwards."

 

"You really think I can do this? Turn my life around?"

 

"I do. There's nothing behind you now, pushing or pulling you off in the wrong directions. It's time to show the world what you're made of. If you put half as much effort into it as you did in needling me, you should be able to make it easily." He grinned.

 

Krycek dumped the empty corn cob on his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"I really do want to try. I just don't know if I can make it."

 

"You'll never know if you don't try. And if you make it, it will be a whole new world for you to enjoy."

 

"That's a pretty big 'if'."

 

"I know. They usually are when it's this important." 

 

"I guess it can't hurt anything to try." 

 

"That's the spirit! And I'll be here if you need any help. You know how to get in touch with me. I'll help any way I can."

 

Krycek stood up, picked up his plate and carried it to the sink and rinsed it. Skinner did the same with his empty plate.

 

"Thanks for dinner. It was perfect like every other meal you fixed for us."

 

"Will you please quit with the 'perfect' shit? I'm getting a complex here."

 

They both chuckled.

 

"If you need anything, give me a holler." Skinner said as Krycek took to the stairs.

 

"I'm fine. I just need some sleep and some time to think."

 

 

Skinner cleaned up the kitchen then decided to turn in himself. It felt good being back in his own bed again. He wallowed in the luxury of his king-sized mattress and soon fell fast asleep. 

 

He woke up in the morning, excited at the start of a new day. He stopped at the guest room door, found it opened and empty. He bounded down the stairs, certain that Krycek must be in the kitchen starting coffee but the kitchen was empty. The apartment was empty. He checked out the downstairs bathroom and called out, "ALEX!" but there was no answer. The stillness over powered him. He walked numbly to his desk and sat down to think.

 

There in the middle of his desk lay a single sheet of paper. He picked it up and read the neat block printing.

 

"Skinner,

 

I'm sorry for everything, I really am. I needed help and you were there for me. Thank you. I won't forget it. Please don't let my leaving like this make you hate me even more than you already do. Whatever's left of my life, I have to figure out what to do with it on my own.

 

Alex"

 

Skinner pounded his fist on the desk and got up angrily and strode over to the sliding glass door to his balcony. He flung it open and stepped out side; gulping in lungs full of fresh air. "Alex Krycek, you stupid son of a bitch, if you kill yourself, I'll kick your skinny ass!"

 

xxxxxx

 

It was a long, cold, boring, nasty winter but it seemed to be finally over with. There hadn't been any snow in weeks, the sun seemed to be warmer and out longer each day. Summer was just around the corner and all the talk at the Hoover was everyone trying to slot out their summer vacation days off. 

 

Skinner went about his business and just mumbled a non-committal answer when he was asked when he wanted to take off. He heard his secretary explaining to the group as she ushered them out of her office that her boss seldom took vacations. He hurried on by and got busy at his desk, glad to be able to close he door between him and the joyous group discussing plans for cruises, family vacations, etc.

 

He picked up a bottle of scotch on his way home and dreaded the weekend. He'd work hard and find something to do to keep his mind occupied. It had been five months now. He hardly ever thought about Alex at all any more. He stopped worrying about a suicide as he was sure it would have been in the paper or on the news. He did check in occasionally with the Morgue to see if they had any un-identified bodies that were unclaimed. 

 

But he didn't worry about him any more. Whatever Alex was going to do, he'd do it. There was nothing more he could do to help him. He did wonder though. He wondered where he was and if he had found a better place to live. His old land lady said he hadn't left a forwarding address. He wondered if his wound had healed and if he had found something to occupy his time other than thoughts of suicide. He wondered a lot about him but wondering wasn't the same as worrying. The thing he wondered the most was how Alex had come to matter so much to him in such a short time when he had spent so many years hating him. Twice he spotted a silver pickup with a camper shell and thought it might be him but it wasn't.

 

He tossed his keys and mail on his desk, removed his jacket and tie and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. He fixed himself a drink, sat on the couch and tried to unwind. He wondered if he would ever see Alex again. He hoped that if he got into any trouble that someone would be there to help him. 

 

He carried his drink over to his desk and started sorting through his mail. Most of it went into the trash. He took a quick glance through a few advertisements and tossed them as well. He stacked his bills in one pile, turned on his computer and started paying them.

 

He paid his MasterCard, his electric bill and his phone bill. Next was a notice from the Humane Society, one of the three charities that he supported on a regular basis – the other two being The Veterans Administration and the American Heart Association. 

 

He slipped the letter opener under the flap and sliced it open. It was an invitation to their annual fund raiser dinner to be held the next Saturday. He got one every year. Normally he just sent a check and didn't attend but now he was looking for things to do on the weekends so he went on-line and RSVPed that he would attend. Hopefully next weekend wouldn't be as deadly dull as this one!

 

He got stuck having to work the next Saturday but finally managed to get away, get home and changed and left for the local Auditorium. He had to park way out and walk in and got there just as the first speaker took the floor. He grabbed a seat in the back and settled in. 

 

Their plans for the coming year were gone over and they had a lot of exciting new projects going on and several others got up and talked about what was happening in their departments. It sounded like a major over-haul was in the works and everyone was excited about their new projects. They talked about the new addition to their building that was underway, the new employees they were able to hire and the increased number of animals they would now be able to care for.

 

The speeches wore on and he found himself having to stifle a yawn. He wished they would get on with it so he could eat dinner and go home. He fiddled with his water glass as they were about to announce their last guest of honor. 

 

"And now I'd like to present our latest and most generous patron who is single handedly responsible for all our new projects being able to get underway – Mr. Alex Krycek."

 

Skinner's head snapped around. Had he really heard that name? Was it him? Could there possibly be someone else with the same name? He craned his neck looking around those in front of him blocking his vision and there he was – sitting on the dais smiling and giving a small embarrassed wave to the crowd. 

 

That concluded the speeches for the evening and the waiters started bringing out the dinner. His plate was no sooner placed in front of him when someone pulled out the empty chair beside him and asked, "Mind if I sit here?"

 

He looked up into Krycek's smiling face.

 

"No! Uh huh. Sure … sit down." Skinner flustered.

 

"Thanks. I didn't think you were going to make it. I've been watching the door and I saw you come in just before the speakers began."

 

"I got stuck having to work today. Wilson is on vacation and O'Conner is out sick." He explained lamely. "You look amazing!" Skinner said once he stopped staring.

 

"Thank you. I feel a lot better."

 

"You're the one who donated all that money?" Someone had just seated himself across from them at the table. "That was incredibly generous of you." He chatted away.

 

"Yes, thank you." Krycek answered and gave Skinner a look that said he was sorry that their conversation had been interrupted.

 

The newcomer's phone jangled and he answered it quickly. "Excuse me but I need to take this call. It's so nice to meet you Mr. Krycek." He reached a hand across the table and Krycek took it and shook hands with him. The man left to handle his call in private.

 

"So how are you? How is your wound? It must be Ok. You look great."

 

"Thank you. I'm fine and the wound is totally healed now. Just one more scar on my body."

 

"You've put on some weight, that's good. You needed it."

 

"So how is everything at the Hoover?"

 

"Same as usual. Everyone is more interested right now in planning summer vacations than getting any real work done."

 

"I can understand that. You should take a vacation, Walter. You haven't taken one in years."

 

"Maybe I would if I could find something to do and someone to do it with." A strange little thrill went through him at the sound of his first name. He had never heard Alex use it before.

 

"You want to get out of here?" Alex asked. "I like all these people a lot but their food sucks. I guess you spoiled me too much." He grinned.

 

Skinner grabbed one more gulp of water, his mouth was incredibly dry for some reason, then got up and the two of them walked outside.

 

"Over here." Alex said and headed towards a dark red SUV parked close by in a reserved spot. He unlocked the doors and they got in. He keyed the ignition, backed out of the parking space and drove away.

 

They talked about the SUV as they drove. It was the latest model, fully loaded with all the gadgets. By the time Alex explained them all he was pulling up to a security gate. The guard greeted him with a two-fingered salute and a smile and opened the gate for them to drive through.

 

Skinner watched out of the rear window as the guard secured the gate behind them as Krycek drove on into the underground parking area. They got out, Krycek locked it up, and they headed for the elevator.

 

"I thought you didn't like these high-risers." Skinner grinned as the elevator doors closed. He had noticed the silver pickup parked near by.

 

"I don't. I'm on the second floor." The elevator stopped seconds after it started and the door opened. 

 

They walked out into a plush hallway and down to the double doors at the end. Krycek unlocked them and they went in. Skinner was stunned! "I see you like antiques."

 

"I do." Alex answered. "One of the places I used to sleep when I was a kid was an antique store over on Birmingham. I used to walk around it late at night when it was all closed up tight and sit on all the furniture and lie down on all the beds. I always thought that one day I'd come back and buy a bunch of it so that's what I did." He smiled then added, "I'm just having trouble deciding if I prefer Italian or French. The place is kind of a mish-mash of both."

 

"It's beautiful. Did you do this yourself?" 

 

"Yes and no." Alex grinned, pleased that Skinner seemed impressed. "Most of the pieces were put together in a show-room setting and I bought them, accent pieces and all and then I added a few extras here and there."

 

"Well the affect is dazzling." Skinner ran a finger tip along a perfectly polished table top." I could never put together anything like this."

 

"You like antiques?" Alex asked and waved Skinner to sit down on the leather couch.

 

"I do. My wife never cared for them though. She considered them 'used furniture'."

 

"She's been gone a long time."

 

"She has. And I suppose I could get out and get some new furniture if I was motivated. I bought the place furnished and it just never seemed important enough to bother with. What I have is comfortable, I guess."

 

"There's a lot to be said for comfort." Alex nodded.

 

"I suppose so. It's just not very exciting." Walter gave a little grin.

 

"You think all this is exciting?" Alex asked a little surprised.

 

"Definitely! It's bold, it's provocative. It makes a statement."

 

Alex just grinned and stared at him. He was really overwhelmed that Walter had taken so to his apartment. Just then, his stomach growled and he remembered that they hadn't eaten. "Oh, hell, I'm sorry. I forgot. You haven't had dinner yet. We could go out – there a several nice restaurants in the area or we could order in."

 

"What do you normally do? Do you cook yet?" Walter asked.

 

"Not anything like you. Mostly I microwave those little frozen dinners."

 

"There's nothing wrong with that. I eat those sometimes. They come in handy when I'm really hungry and don't want to take the time to go out. Why don't we just heat up a couple of those?"

 

"You serious? You fix me gourmet meals in a tent and you expect me to serve you a meal out of a box in this fancy apartment?"

 

"Uh huh. Why not?"

 

"All right. If that's what you want. Come on into the kitchen and pick out what you want."

 

They zapped their meals in the micro wave and sat at the kitchen table eating and making small talk. Neither one could take his eyes off the other. It was late when they finished and Walter asked Alex what he was doing tomorrow.

 

"I work Sundays. The facility is closed but someone has to stay around to look after the animals. Most everyone who works there has a family so I volunteered. Instead, I take Monday's off."

 

"Good for you." Walter said as they settled themselves back into the living room again. "So did you go straight to the Humane Society went you left my place?"

 

"Oh no. I checked into a hotel. You filled my head with so many possibilities that I had to think a few days to get them all sorted out. First priority was to get myself a nice place to live. That took about a week and I looked at about half a dozen places every day!"

 

"There are a million out there but none quite like this one." Skinner commented.

 

"I do like this one. It was one of the few that were available at this level. Apparently I'm not the only one who doesn't care for the higher floors."

 

"It never has bothered me." Walter said. "I guess I just never paid it much attention."

 

"Once I found this place, I knew this was the one. I started looking at furniture and this is what I ended up with."

 

"I really like it."

 

"After I got in and got the place settled, I started thinking about the volunteer work. The more I thought about it, the more I knew that's what I wanted to do. The first place I went was to the Veteran's Administration. They did a background check on me and sent me on over to the VA hospital."

 

"They cleared you?" Walter was surprised.

 

"They did. After I did some preliminary work, that is."

 

"I see. So how did it go at the hospital?"

 

"Not well. I helped out where I could and did some counseling with amputees but there was no connection there. They wanted to know how I lost my arm. I lied and told them it was in an accident." He saw the look on Walter's face as his eyes dropped and a look of disappointment came over him. He knew Walter was thinking that he was slipping back into his old ways of finagling and lying again.

 

"I just couldn't connect with them, Walter. These men, most of them, lost their limbs in battle. They were polite enough all right, but they just didn't seem to even want to open up with me."

 

"So you just left?"

 

"I stayed for two months. I really wanted it to work. It didn't. I came home more depressed than ever. Then I saw an advertisement for the Humane Society and went over there."

 

"And the rest, as they say, is history." Walter finished for him.

 

"Exactly. I had no idea what to expect. I had never had a pet before but they give you this little course and the next thing you know, you're into it up to your neck."

 

"I imagine they started you out cleaning cages?" 

 

"They did! How did you know that?"

 

"I did a little volunteer work there myself, years ago. I really should do more. I liked it a lot."

 

"The first time I was actually in with the animals, I was scared to death. I just stood there frozen. I was supposed to go into this mixed group of dogs, put a leash on one, and take it for a walk. I had no idea what to do. Then this one old dog came up to me and kind of leaned against me. I looked down at him and I swear to God, Walter, that dog smiled at me! I hooked the leash on and took him outside."

 

"Oh I believe you. Dogs can smile; most of them. I've seen it."

 

"Man, I had no idea! It really blew me away. He knew right where to go too when we got outside. He walked straight back to the enclosure. It was just great!"

 

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

 

"I really am. More so than I ever imagined! I'm even pretty good with the cats. Those damn ferrets bite though."

 

Walter laughed. "I've never had to deal with any ferrets but I've heard they can be pretty mean sometimes."

 

"Well the two we have are. And it's not just me. They've got a sign up on their cage not to touch them because they bite. I'm torn between wanting them to get adopted out and worrying for whoever eventually does take them."

 

"I'm sure they will find someone who knows how to handle them. They seem to be a pretty popular pet."

 

"I know and I don't understand why. I mean they are cute and all but they seem to be really bad tempered."

 

"Are they male or female?"

 

"Both males, I think."

 

"Well there you go. Maybe they're cross because they are in need of a female?"

 

"I guess that's possible. They have someone coming in from the college next week to have a look at them. Hopefully they'll know what to do with them." Alex stifled a yawn and Walter caught it.

 

"Look, it's late and you have to work tomorrow." He stood to leave and Alex followed.

 

"I'm so glad you came to the dinner." Alex said as they walked to the elevator.

 

"Me too. I had no idea I'd be seeing you there. I just went to give me something to do. Weekends are so deadly dull and boring."

 

 

They emerged into the parking area and Alex clicked the doors to his SUV and unlocked them and they climbed in.

 

"You said you have to work tomorrow but what about dinner? They have to give you time off for dinner, don't they?" Skinner asked.

 

"I get off at five." Alex smiled as he drove.

 

"Have dinner with me then. There's this new little jazz club that just opened a few months ago that I've wanted to try out. Do you like jazz?"

 

"Yeah ... yeah I do." They were at a stop light and Alex stared at him.

 

"What?"

 

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

 

"Uh huh. You Ok with that?"

 

The light changed and the car behind them honked. Alex turned his attention back to his driving. "I guess so."

 

"You guess so; you'll go to dinner with me? Or you guess so; it's Ok for me to ask?"

 

"It's not like it's actually a date. I mean, we both have to eat; right?" Alex was flustered as he pulled into the deserted parking area next to Skinner's car.

 

"Oh it's a date." Walter grinned as he got out of the car, closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven."

 

Alex swallowed hard and shook his head. "Seven. I'll be ready."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

 

Skinner held up two pairs of pants, jeans and slacks, and tried to decide which to wear. He didn't want to seem too casual, on the other hand, he didn't want to appear that the evening meant nothing to him either. He decided on the slacks. He chose an appropriate shirt and jacket and stood looking at himself in the mirror. Not too bad, he thought, for an old guy. He shoved that thought away. He certainly didn't feel like an old guy. Not tonight. He splashed on a little cologne and hurried downstairs to the parking garage to find all four tires on his car flattened. 

 

"SHIT!"

 

xxx

 

Krycek shaved for the second time when he found a wayward whisker that he had missed. Not that he'd need to worry about something like that. After all, it was just dinner with Skinner. It's not like it was a real date or anything. Just the same he felt his face carefully and made sure there were no offending whiskers remaining. He brushed his teeth and inspected them closely in the mirror and made a mental note that he needed to get to a dentist and have them cleaned again. 

 

He stood in his closet with his jeans in hand and debated. No, he's so used to seeing me in these black jeans; I'll surprise him. He pulled out one of his new pairs of slacks, still had the tags on, and tried them on. Yes. They'll do just fine. He pulled the tags off and tossed them then donned the new shirt the salesman assured him went perfectly with the slacks. He took his new shoes out of the box and tried them on. They felt good, comfortable, and they looked Ok. No where to hide a knife though. He grinned at the thought. He still felt a little naked going out of the house without his gun and knife but had made the decision that if he was going to change his life, he'd have to start by leaving certain habits behind.

 

He tried on the matching jacket and turned around to look at himself in the mirror. He cut the tag off the sleeve and looked again, deciding it was going to have to do. He wished it was colder so he could wear gloves to hide his plastic hand but it wasn't like Skinner hadn't seen it all before. He shook his head in wonder, remembering how Skinner had bathed him back in that tent. Skinner really had seen him all! 

 

The ringing phone brought him out of his reverie. Damn! "Skinner, you'd better not be canceling on me!" He glanced at the caller ID and saw it was the Humane Society.

 

"Yes?" He answered.

 

"Alex! Thank God, I got you! You've got to come down here right away! That black cat is acting real funny. I think she's about ready to have those kittens."

 

"Did you call the vet?"

 

"I did. He's not in. I called both of them and couldn't get either one. What should I do?"

 

"Just calm down now; she should be able to handle it by herself."

 

"What if something goes wrong though? I'd be responsible! Oh, Alex, PLEASE! You've got to come down. I don't know anything about this! I was just supposed to keep an eye on things, not help deliver kittens!"

 

Alex looked at his watch, 6:35. "Look, I can't come right now. Can't you get on the internet or something? Look up cats giving birth. There's probably nothing you're supposed to do anyway."

 

xxx

 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Skinner, but we've been having a lot of trouble with vandals lately. I'll report it again but the best I can suggest for right now is that you report it to your insurance company tomorrow morning." The man from building security told him.

 

Skinner cooled his heels while he waited for his rental car to be delivered. 6:45 – he was never going to make it in time. He arrived at 7:05 and Alex was gone.

 

xxx

 

"Oh God, I'm so glad you're here! Hurry, something's wrong. It looks like her insides are coming out or something."

 

"Are you sure it's not just a kitten?" Alex asked as they hurried into the back room where the pregnant cat was kept.

 

"It doesn't look like fur to me, it looks like, I don't know, intestines or something. See – it's sticking out? It goes back in and then comes out again." He squatted down beside the black cat and pointed to her behind.

 

"Shit." Alex said. "Did you try the vet again?"

 

"I did! Both of them! They must have their phones turned off because neither of them is answering. What do you think we should do?"

 

"First of all, don't panic. Calm down! She doesn't appear to be distressed. Let's just give her some time and see what happens." Alex knelt down beside the box and was startled by his phone ringing. He fished it out of his jacket pocket and answered, "Yes?"

 

"Hey, did you forget about dinner?"

 

"Oh no! I didn't forget. We've got an emergency situation here at the Humane Society. We've got a cat trying to deliver kittens and she's pretty messed up. We tried calling the vets and can't get a hold of either of them. I don't suppose you know anything about cats giving birth?"

 

"Sure I do. We always had cats and dogs around the farm. What's the problem?"

 

"I don't know. It looks like something is sticking out of her back side but it doesn't look like a kitten."

 

"Ok. I'm not all that far away. I'll be there shortly."

 

"Thank God!" Alex snapped his phone shut and told Carl, his co worker, that help was on the way.

 

They were both standing at the back door when Walter pulled up. "In here, quick!"

 

Just as all three of them knelt down by the box again the cat gave one last grunt and the tiny, membrane covered, kitten popped out. The mother started washing it immediately.

 

"Oh it is a kitten!" Carl said happily.

 

"There's nothing really that you need to do. She can pretty much take care of things. It'll probably take a while yet. I can still feel at least three or four more." Walter said as he petted the cat and felt her stomach.

 

"She's eating all that gunk." Alex said. "Is that Ok?"

 

"Sure it is. It's nature's way. There's probably something in it that she needs right now. She looks like she's doing fine."

 

 

They watched another two hours while the black cat delivered five more kittens. Somewhere between kitten number three and kitten number four, Carl had slipped out and came back with foot-long chili dogs and cokes from Sonic.

Once they were sure the birthing was finished and they determined that momma cat and kittens were all doing well, they changed the bedding in the box and Alex and Walter left.

 

"That's not exactly the evening that I had planned." Walter said with a grin as they stood beside their cars in the parking lot.

 

"I'm sorry about that. But Carl was in such a panic and once I got here, so was I. I've never seen anything like that – I didn't know what to expect." Alex apologized.

 

"It's all right. I enjoyed the evening – even the chili dogs."

 

Alex laughed. "You probably won't be thinking that about mid-night when they come back to haunt you!"

 

"This is true!" Walter chuckled. "It did give me an idea though. Next week end, Sunday for sure, you and I are going to dinner. That's a promise – so plan on it!" He unlocked his car and got in, lowered the window. "No emergencies allowed next Sunday!"

 

"I'll mark that down on my calendar. No emergencies allowed next Sunday." Alex grinned.

 

"Good! I'll see you then – seven o'clock, Sunday."

 

"Yeah, I'll be ready and thanks again."

 

Skinner grinned and drove off – formulating the plan in his head for the next weekend. It was going to take some doing but he had a week to do it.

 

xxx

 

Skinner shopped every night after work that week and didn't finish until Saturday afternoon. One more day to wait! He got up early Sunday morning, had breakfast and spent an hour at the gym. He filled the day with busy work while the hours slowly passed by. By six thirty he could stand it no longer and pulled out his cell and called Alex.

 

"Yes?" Alex answered the phone.

 

"You don't have any pending emergencies do you?"

 

"Nope. I put Carl on warning that I would not be available tonight under any circumstances."

 

"Good. I'll see you in thirty minutes then."

 

"I'll be waiting."

 

He drove slowly through the security gates at 6:57. Parked, got his parcel from the passenger seat and carried it towards the elevator. Just as he stepped out of the elevator Alex's door opened and he stepped out into the hallway.

 

"Hi." Walter greeted him.

 

"Hi yourself," Alex said. 

 

Walter handed him the box and said, "This is for later. It's dessert."

 

"Oh. Ok." He turned and unlocked his door and they took it inside.

 

"It really should be put in the refrigerator if you have room."

 

"Sure. It's practically empty." Alex said and took the box and put it inside the refrigerator.

 

"Ready for dinner?" Walter asked.

 

"Definitely!" Alex answered and the two of them left in Walter's car.

 

xxx

 

"That was amazing." Alex said as they left the posh restaurant. "I didn't expect anything like that."

 

"That was the best steak I've had in years. We're going to have to come back here again soon." Walter agreed as they climbed back into the car.

 

"At those prices you wouldn't want to make a place like this a habit."

 

"A habit, no – but a place to come for special occasions; definitely!" Walter agreed as they drove.

 

In moments they were back in Alex's parking garage. They got out of the car and Alex started walking towards the elevator.

 

"Can you give me a hand here?" Walter called to him as he opened the back door to his car and pulled out some large plastic bags.

 

"Huh? Oh sure." Alex walked back to the car and took two of the large bags while Walter managed to carry four. "What's all this stuff?"

 

"For your party." Walter said as they entered the elevator.

 

"My what?"

 

"Your birthday party. Today's June 22. It's your birthday – did you forget?"

 

"My … how did you know that?"

 

"I checked." Walter said as the doors opened. They carried the stuff down the hall and into Alex's apartment.

 

Once inside Walter dug around in one of the bags and pulled out two bottles of Champagne. "Can you see about getting these on ice? I need to go back out and get the rest."

 

"The rest?" 

 

"Uh huh. Here." He handed Alex's the bottles and headed back down to his car. He was back in a few minutes carrying two huge packages and another large plastic bag.

 

"What is all this?" Alex asked again.

 

Walter started pulling things out and placing them on the table. "Presents. You're thirty eight today and I've missed every one of your birthdays so now I'm making up for it with thirty eight presents." He grinned at the shocked expression on Alex's face.

 

"Presents? Thirty eight presents? For me?" He was speechless.

 

"That's right. But you can't open them yet. There's an order to these parties."

 

"I wouldn't know." Alex shook his head in wonder.

 

"I didn't think so. First of all we have to decorate." Walter said and pulled out a package, tore it open and unfolded a 'Happy Birthday' banner. He took it over and hung it from the mantle, setting candle sticks on each end to hold it.

 

"Here you can start with these." He tossed Alex a bag of balloons. "There's fifty in there. They've got to all be blown up."

 

"You're kidding!"

 

"Nope. Every Birthday party has balloons and they have to all be blown up before you get to open your presents." By then there was a mound of gaily decorated packages piled up and Walter was bringing out crepe paper streamers and draping them around wherever he could. "Start blowing. I'll help in a minute."

 

Alex gazed in disbelief as Walter decorated the room then sat down and started blowing up the balloons. Walter joined him and after a while the room was filled with balloons of every color bouncing around. 

 

"Now what?" Alex asked anxiously eyeing the pile of gifts.

 

"The cake. You get it and I'll find the candles." Walter got up and started digging through the bags again. 

 

Alex hurried into the kitchen and brought the box out of the refrigerator and set it on the table. 

 

"Let's get it out of the box." Walter said as he un-wrapped the two big candles that he had bought. Once the box was disposed of he placed the two candles side by side – a three and an eight. "Got a match?"

 

"Uh … by the fireplace." He went over and got a match and brought it back. 

 

Walter struck it and lit the candles while he explained to Alex. "First you've got to be brave and listen to me sing and you're not supposed to laugh. Once I'm through singing, you've got to make a Birthday wish, then you blow out the candles. Got it?"

 

"I think I can handle that." Alex said with an amused grin.

 

"Ok here goes. Now if you laugh, you don't get your wish." He warned then started singing – "Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Alex, Happy Birthday to you. You were very strong; I didn't hear a chuckle. You make your wish now and blow."

 

Alex closed his eyes for a moment then opened them and blew. Both candles went out immediately.

 

"Yeah! You did it. You should get your wish! Now you can start opening your presents but you have to open this one first." Walter shoved a smallish package towards him.

 

Alex sat and held the package for a time just staring at it. "I've never had a present before. I can't believe you did all this."

 

"I did it because I wanted to. Go ahead. Open it."

 

Alex carefully undid the package and his eyes lit up as he pulled out a state of the art, digital camera. 

 

"A digital camera!" He took it out of the package and examined it. 

 

"That's why I wanted you to open it first. Now I can take pictures of you opening the rest of your gifts." Walter took it from him and got it ready to shoot. "I have one similar but mine's a few years older." He held it up and took a photo of Alex's startled face.

 

"Go on. You've got lots of gifts to open before you can have any champagne and cake."

 

"I don't know what to say." Alex fumbled for words.

 

"You don't need to say anything. This is your party; you can say and do anything you want." Walter smiled at him and snapped another photo. 

 

Box after box was opened and he pulled out; silk shirts, books, a robe, CDs, DVDs, a watch, a gold pen and pencil set, a cashmere sweater, an electric razor, and marveled at them all. On and on he opened them up until he was all finished but the two large packages on the floor. He picked the smaller one up first and opened it. It was a combination radio and CD player. Then the largest and last package he opened to find a five piece luggage set, each one nested inside the other. When he finished he was exhausted and in a state of shock.

 

Walter took one last photo of him sitting there staring at his pile of presents then said, "I think it's time for some of that champagne. What do you think?"

 

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure. I stuck them in the ice cube compartment. It should be cold enough." Alex said and got up and went into the kitchen. 

 

Walter unwrapped the two champagne glasses he had bought and sat them on the table along with some paper plates and plastic forks.

 

"You even brought glasses?" Alex said as he took the two water glasses back into the kitchen. "You've given a lot of parties?" .

 

"No but I helped my mother put on a lot of these things for us kids. She always loved doing it. I guess it rubbed off on me."

 

Alex popped the cork and poured them each a glass. "Do we cut the cake now?"

 

"Nooooo. Just a quick drink then you've got to burst all these balloons."

 

"What?"

 

"That's right! We've got to burst all these balloons by stomping on them. Whoever bursts the most balloons gets the first piece of cake!" Walter said and stomped on one.

It burst with a loud bang and the competition was on. They sipped their drink as they hurried around the room stomping on the balloons as they skittered out of their way, each one counting and shouting out their number as yet another balloon popped underfoot.

 

Alex stomped the last two as Walter snapped his photo – his face was red from exertion and he was breathless with excitement. Walter stared for a long time at the photo in the small viewing screen until Alex came over to see what he was looking at. 

 

"I get the first piece of cake?"

 

"Yes you do. Go ahead." Walter put the camera down and joined him.

 

"How do I cut it?" Alex asked standing over the beautifully decorated cake.

 

"Any way you want to. But I get the piece that has your name on it." 

 

Alex smiled and started a really bad job of carving up the cake, laughing and licking his fingers all the way. Walter held out two plates and they sat down and ate.

 

"Darn, I knew I'd forgotten something! I forgot ice cream!" Walter sighed.

 

"Don't worry about it. This is perfect – absolutely perfect!" Alex said as he poured them each another glass of champagne. 

 

"I've never had champagne and cake at the same time before. They don't really go together very well, do they?" Walter said.

 

"I think it's wonderful! This whole evening has been wonderful. I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you."

 

"You don't have to thank me. It's been fun for me too. I loved every minute of it! Just don't be offended that I have to leave early. I have meetings scheduled first thing in the morning." Walter stood and carried his half eaten cake over to the table. "I'll help you clean up."

 

"No. I can do that. After all the trouble and expense you went through to give me this party, the least I can do is clean up." Alex joined him at the table. "More champagne?"

 

"No, I'd better not. The last thing I need is to be pulled over for a DUI." 

 

Walter made his way to the door with Alex following.

 

"I never had any idea that Birthdays could be so much fun." Alex smiled at him.

 

"Happy Birthday, Alex." Walter said and leaned over and kissed him lightly in the lips.

 

Alex gulped, "Are you sure you have to go? I mean, it's not all that late."

 

"I really should." Walter leaned over and kissed him again and lingered a little longer this time.

 

"If you go, I won't get my birthday wish."

 

"What was it?"

 

"That you would spend the night." Alex answered hopefully.

 

A warmth washed over Skinner and settled in his groin. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

 

"Yes I am. And it's my birthday and you said I could do anything I wanted to." Alex pleaded.

 

"I've never been anyone's birthday wish before." Walter grinned at him.

 

"Well, you are mine. Will you stay?" Alex reached up and kissed him.

 

"How could I refuse?" Walter took him in his arms then and kissed him deeply.

 

xxx

 

Moments later they were in bed and Walter was apologizing. "Oh shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come so fast." 

 

Alex wiped the corner of his mouth and grinned at him. "I'll just take it as I'm that good!"

 

"You are! But still, I should have been able to hold out a little longer. I've been planning this but not for a few more weeks yet. I thought we'd go out some more, get used to spending time together. I figured I'd wine you and dine you …"

 

Alex chuckled, "What you didn't figure on was my birthday wish."

 

"I didn't."

 

"Well the wish was for you to spend the night. We've got plenty of time."

 

"Oh, that we do!" Walter held him close then, running his hands over the bare skin, lingering here and there on his favorite parts. He made a mental note to himself that he'd gone all night without sleep before – he could do it again!

 

It was dawn when he made the phone call into his office to tell them that something had come up and he had to cancel his appointments for the day.

 

"Something came up all right," Alex snickered, "Over and over again! Once you get started you're like that Energizer bunny – you keep going and going and going."

 

"I can't help it. You just do it for me." Walter buried his face in Alex's shoulder and nibbled on the side of his neck. "And you taste so good … all over!"

 

"Shit, I'm going to be walking bowlegged for a week!" Alex laughed.

 

"I only gave you what you asked for!" Walter defended himself.

 

"Mmmmmm – I know! And each time was better than the last."

 

"What's that?" Walter rolled over on his back and listened.

 

"What? Oh that music?"

 

"Yeah. Where's that coming from?"

 

"I don't know – next apartment maybe. It sounds like a music box."

 

"It does kind of but I've never heard anything that beautiful … ALEX! That's it!"

 

"What? What's it?" Alex leaned up on his elbows as Walter was now sitting straight up.

 

"It's the signal – the signal from Saint Peter!"

 

"Oh the Saint Peter thing again. You really believe in that stuff? I mean … signals and all?"

 

"I never would have before but I do now. And you heard it too, didn't you?"

 

"The music? Yeah, I heard it but that doesn't prove that it came from Saint Peter."

 

"It doesn't have to. I know I've learned my lesson now. I've truly forgiven you. And you – do you trust me?"

 

"Well sure I trust you!"

 

"Then we've both learned our lessons! That's why we both heard the music!"

 

Alex chuckled. "So now what does that mean? Are we going to die now and go to Heaven?"

 

"No, it means that when our time does come, that's where we'll go if we don't screw up any more." Walter lay back down and held Alex close in his arms.

 

"I don't know about you, Walter, but as far as I'm concerned, I'm already in Heaven!"

 

Walter closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the top of Alex's head. He drifted off to sleep listening to the tinkling music – the most beautiful music he had ever heard.

 

 

THE END


End file.
